Speechless
by CallTheWindaThief
Summary: A present for my sister while she's away. Nineteen years is a long time. And in that time, Harry discovers how much like his father he really is, while helping Draco to embrace his inner Black.
1. Chapter 1

Draco was bored. Hopelessly, terribly bored. To someone on the outside, this might seem like a very hard idea to grasp. The filthy Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, not prancing around in sheer delight at being in a Hogwarts run by the Dark Lord? Preposterous. Outrageous. Nonsense. He could do as he pleased now – torture first years, terrify classmates, skive off classes, nick food from the kitchen…He was hardly even a student anymore – merely a spectator in the back of a classroom, a tenant at the Hogwarts Inn. The grounds were completely his to explore, the rules his to bend, Hell was finally his to raise! And yet, Draco Malfoy found himself spending most of his time sulking down in the dungeons, upset, lonely, and very much bored.

Because to be quite honest, "new" Hogwarts wasn't as glamorous to him as it was to the other young Death Eaters. It just wasn't…It wasn't _right_. It didn't feel like Hogwarts anymore, like the same safe place he'd spent the last six years of his life. It was…colder. Definitely darker. And no matter where you were in the castle, it always felt like you were stuck in the dungeons, and not the pleasant, common room parts of the dungeon either. Fear seemed to have been installed into every crevice in the school, and the ever-present Slytherin banners just seemed tow ash the place of any other color. And while Draco took pride in the emerald and silver that surrounded him, he couldn't help but miss what the castle used to be.

He missed the splendid feasts, the brightness of the lights in the Great Hall and how warm they made you feel on a rainy day. He missed the comfort and security he got from just being inside the castle, and though he'd rather trade wardrobes with a Weasley than ever admit it out loud, he missed the other Houses' colors and how much life the gave to the place. He missed the happy portraits, the bright faces, the laughter, the humanity. He missed his daily banter with those he could call friends, the lightness in the air that no one seemed to really realize was there until it wasn't. He even missed Dumbledore, the poor sod. But he never dwelled long on that thought – it often made him ill.

But what Draco missed most of all, above everything else, was a certain bespectacled git with untidy black hair and piercing green eyes.

He would rather die than openly admit it – in fact, when he first realized it, he swore to himself that he'd kiss Ron Weasley full on the mouth before ever uttering the words. But Draco Malfoy really, truly missed Harry Potter. He missed their rivalry, their quarrels, the hate-filled comebacks Potter would throw his way in a stupid attempt to sound witty. He missed seeing (and glaring at) that unmistakable mane of hair as it passed him in the corridors, missed having him there to pick on. Because honestly, Potter just got so damn defensive and offended and it was just so funny. He made Draco's day _brighter_ by being an insufferable prat, odd as it was to admit. But with him off doing stupid Gryffindor-y _who-knows-what_ to defeat the stupid sodding Dark Lord, there was no one there to occupy Draco's time, no one to watch out for in the corridors, no one who dared to oppose him. And it was just so bloody _boring_. If Draco didn't know that bringing the ugly git back would mean his death (and thus a permanent end to Draco's fun), he'd go after him as soon as he could, demanding that he stopped being such a sodding Gryffindor _right now_ before Draco got _really_ angry.

Now he hadn't grown fond of the kid or anything – no, God forbid Draco ever, ever do that. It was just…when you spend six years of your life talking to someone daily, even if just to tell them what a git they really are, when they're gone, you're sure to notice. It's sure to bother you, maybe even upset you a bit. After all, a piece of your daily schedule had been _torn away_, and _you_ certainly didn't ask for it to happen, and suddenly he wasn't there to torture, and _why_ oh WHY did THIS Harry Potter have to be the bloody Chosen One? Why couldn't it have been some other stupid Gryffindor, one that Draco didn't invest HIS precious time in torturing? It wasn't _fair_ to him. And honestly, between the loss of his favorite toy and the serious aural downgrade of the Hogwarts castle, how did anyone expect him to be anything but miserable and bored? And it was all the fault of the bloody Chosen One and his inability to destroy the Dark Lord while within Draco's grasp.

Yes, if Potter survived this whole ordeal, the stupid bleeding git was going to pay for making him suffer.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, if Potter survived this whole ordeal, the stupid bleeding git was going to pay for making him suffer.

Honestly, for a guy who prided himself in having brains as well as brawn, James was a really huge dumbass. It was all Sirius could think as he tapped his fingers on his chair, anxiously glancing every once in a while at the idiot in the hospital bed next to him. He had been there, day after day, sitting there for hour after hour for three days - three entire days. And in that time, James hadn't shown any signs of improvement. On the other hand, he also hadn't seemed to get any worse, but ever the pessimist, Sirius couldn't bring himself to focus on that thought. He bit his lip, paying for his friend to sit up, wake up, _breathe loudly_, anything to show him he was alive.

Most people considered the elder Black brother to be lucky – being best friends with James Potter? It had to be bloody brilliant. What with all the hell they rose, trouble they made, and chances they took, life could never get boring. However, most people also seemed to conveniently forget that James Potter was also an absolute _prat_, so being his best friend also happened to land you a spot atop the hospital wing's Hall of Fame and a lifetime of hidden worry. Bloody freaking brilliant.

"I'm going to kill you, James Potter," Sirius found himself saying quietly, almost tiredly, eyes fixed on his friend's face. "I'm going to bash your bloody skull into the wall, and then – then we'll see how much more shit you can drag me into."

"That," said James suddenly making his friend jump, eyes still closed and lips barely moving, "would be extremely detrimental to my recovery, mate."

Sirius was up and right by his side in an instant, one hand checking the handiwork Madame Pomfrey had done on his friend's bandages, the other feeling James' forehead, neck, cheek to be sure he wasn't running a fever. He couldn't even be bothered to ask how long his friend was awake – it didn't matter. After three days – three long, _torturous_ days – of sitting in a chair next to him, he was happy his friend was still able to wake up. As soon as James passed his inspection, Sirius sat back down in that same chair again, barely catching his friend's muttering of words that sounded oddly like, "mum," "get off," and "bleeding pansy." Sirius though, reminding himself that he was happy James was even alive, chose to ignore him and just smile.

"You gave me a scare there, mate," he said with a shaky laughed as James attempted to sit up. "Taking a whack from the Willow like that and then being out cold for so long? It was very unlike you. I was starting to believe you'd finally gotten too stupid for your own good."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a stupid prat, I could have died, blah, blah, blah, I get it," James said, stretching and yawning. "Please, save me the speech, Sirius. I just woke up."

Sirius laughed and opened his mouth to say something back, but the sound of talking had attracted the attention of one Madame Pomfrey, and he found James suddenly blocked from his view as she insisted upon repeating the same inspection Sirius himself had done just moments before. Imagining the horrified look on his friend's face at getting such treatment twice, Sirius forced himself to stifle a laugh. "Foolish, foolish boy," he heard the witch mutter, somewhat annoyed that she doted on his friend thoroughly without so much as acknowledging that James had company. Then again, she never seemed to pay attention to students unless they were taking up space in one of her beds. "What on Earth were you thinking, Mr. Potter?"

"I wasn't," came the reply, though it was obvious by James' tone that this conversation had happened before and he was now simply telling Madame Pomfrey what she wanted to hear to escape her wrath.

"That's right, you weren't," continued the annoyed witch as she began to remove his bandages. "You never do think, do you? With brains like yours, you'd _think_ that you'd know the meaning of words like 'careless,' 'foolish,' and 'dangerous,' but you still seem to be in the process of leaning." She carried on like this for several minutes, stopping only when she handled James' bandages much too fiercely and caused him to wince. The only thing keeping Sirius from laughing until he cried at the look of indignation on his friend's face was the fact that the last time he had done that, the medi-witch had turn her anger on him. And that was an experience that he most certainly did not want to relive.

At last, though, after a few potions and several long lecture, James was free to go, the cut he'd gotten on his forehead from the Whomping Willow now nothing more than a jagged scar. "That was a really close one, James," Sirius said as he and his friend walked out of the hospital wing and began heading toward the Entrance Hall. "I mean, you've taken beatings before, but usually not from an animated tree. If Remus hadn't been there…" He frowned, trailing off. He'd seen that entire tree bend over to crush an intruding snake before. He didn't like to think of what it could have done to his friend.

James, however, didn't seem nearly as concerned. He was practically skipping down the steps, desperate to make up for his lack of movements in the three days he'd been asleep. "I just got distracted, mate. Even James Potter has accidents." Sirius wanted to point out that most "accidents" didn't hospitalize you for three days, but he knew it was pointless. He'd save the parental speech for Remus to take care of. For now, though, he just wrapped his arm around his friend's neck and said, "Well it's good to see you walking, mate. And just in time, too. I think it's time for lunch."

At the sound of lunch, James' eyes lit up and he hurried to get down to the Great Hell, nearing slamming through the heavy doors to access the food within. As expected, all eyes turned to look at them at James' grand entrance, and at Remus's cry of, "James!" instant whispers and mutterings went through all four tables, to start rumors about James' injuries and why Sirius Black just _always_ had to be by his side, before three of them returned to normal. The Gryffindor table, though, was very pleased to see the return of their most popular Chaser, and cries of, "Hey James!" and "Good to see you alive, Potter!" were heard above the usual noise of the Hall. James was, of course, eating up all the attention, and it took all of Sirius's strength not to smirk smugly at the fact that it was _him_ James was next to the entire time. That it was _his_ arm around James' neck, that it was _him_ James paid the most attention to out of them all.

After taking his spot among his fellow Gryffindors, James picked up a goblet, raising it as though to make a toast, and those nearest to him quieted to listen intently to what he was about to say. He uttered one sentence, two words, and then drank to the cheers around him, slamming the goblet back down on the table with a satisfied smirk.

"Potter's back!"


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Oh hello! Just dropping in to say that this entire chapter is based upon Chapter 31: The Battle of Hogwarts in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. All of the dialogue occurring within the RoR belongs to J.K. Rowling and not myself, save for one small exchange between Crabbe and Malfoy. Of course, this time it is from Draco's PoV so it's just told in a different way. Feel free to grab your copies of HP&tDH to compare. I certainly had fun with it.

"Potter's back!"

The cry jerked Draco from his thoughts, and he turned his head slightly, careful not to shift the comfortable position he'd finally found on the common room couch, to see a distraught-looking Goyle standing in the doorway.

"Pardon?"

"Potter's back," Goyle said again, and Draco raised his eyebrows. "Snape's just been tipped off. Well not just been tipped off. He just announced that he's been tipped off, and Potter came out of bloody nowhere and-Well, I forget the details. Point is, the entire castle's in an uproar." He kept talking, spouting nonsense about Potter encountering other Death Eaters soon and then a real battle getting started and something about a plan and the Dark Lord, but Draco ignored him as he took in this new information, annoyed. What in the bloody HELL did Potter think he was doing? He was going to get himself _killed_, or at least captured again. He tried hard not to think of the last time Potter had been stupid enough to put himself near the enemy. The image of his swollen, disfigured face had haunted Draco for the rest of his holiday break, and the thought of it then made his stomach turn unpleasantly. He wasn't prepared to let Potter do something so stupid again; he wasn't sure his stomach could take it. He had to intervene. He sat up, turning his entire body to fully face Goyle before interrupting his friend of sorts with his own words. "Hey, Goyle. Ready to go on a Potter hunt?"

The larger boy just smiled stupidly, as though he'd been waiting for Draco to say those very words.

Idiot.

Though, he had to admit, if there was anyone in the world who made Gregory sodding Goyle look like a genius, it was Harry Potter.

After all, there the prat went, right into the Room of Requirement, just giving off the illusion of knowing what he was doing and giving himself protection, and then he was practically pushing the women in the room out the door, screaming to the Weaslette that she had to come back eventually for whatever reason, and then he just STOOD there. _In the middle of a bloody war_. Sure, he was INSIDE the Room, but he was still just STANDING there with the door open. If it wasn't for his sudden cry of, "OI! There's a war going on here!" for whatever stupid reason, Draco would be convinced the stupid little boy had no idea what serious danger he was in.

And then, then – the idiot left the safety of the room. And he let himself get _distracted. _In the middle of the bloody _corridor_. Draco's heart was pounding, and he was only slightly aware of Crabbe and Goyle practically breathing down his neck, asking if it was okay to go, to enact their plan. He shook his head absentmindedly before realizing they couldn't see him due to the Disillusionment Charms, but he couldn't be bothered to correct himself. He was putting all of his focus on Harry, just willing him to _get out of the dangerous corridor, you ignorant twit_! But it seemed that Crabbe and Goyle were going nowhere without his command, so they stayed put anyway, never suspecting what was keeping their leader from breathing the quiet signal to act.

Finally, after what felt like years, Potter and company started pacing back and forth in front of the wall, and Draco beckoned his two morons forward with a quiet, "Now," relying on his Disillusionment Charms to keep them hidden. Evidently, they did, because when a familiar-looking door appeared in front of the two trios, they made it through behind Potter and company before the door closed behind them without the other three suspecting a thing.

Draco took a moment to assess where they were - this a familiar room. A very familiar room. Wanting to rid himself of the memory of it (he was starting to get a bit queasy again), he turned his attention to Potter and his friends. Weasley was saying something about someone realizing anyone could get in, and Potter responded with something equally as vague and stupid. Then, they were walking, and Draco followed close behind Harry, hoping Crabbe and Goyle had enough brain matter to follow his lead without being able to see him. As they walked further and further into the room, Draco noted with pride that Potter stopped to pay special attention to the Vanishing Cabinet that he had repaired the previous year. It was about time Potter recognized his true talent, and he felt as though everyone in the room could see his smirk, despite his powerful charm. However, in his haze, Draco walked a little too close to Potter, and before he knew it, his chest was ever so lightly brushing against Potter's back. Harry moved forward slightly, then paused, and Draco hesitated, thinking for one crazy moment that they had been discovered.

"Accio Diadem!"

He let out the breath he'd been holding in. No, the Mudblood had just wanted to show off her magical "skill". But whatever this diadem thing was, it didn't give in to Granger's sickeningly perfect spell delivery. It seemed they had reached a stopping point, and Draco took a few steps back, away from Potter, debating as to whether or not he should lift his charms. Then Potter said something that sounded like beautiful music to his scheming ears. "Let's split up." He even gave a description of what they were looking for. Yeah – Goyle was starting to look like a real Merlin by that point.

They followed Potter for a few more minutes (or he followed Potter - he was only hoping that his friends had the sense to have been following them this entire time), watching him wade through pile upon pile of junk, muttering to himself all the while. To be quite honest, he looked rather like a lost puppy, and Draco found himself thinking Potter was almost _cute_, with that note of desperation in his voice, hair falling in that stupid messy way into his—

No, no, he did NOT just think that. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, in the process noticing a certain statue with a particular discolored tiara on its head. And then, before he knew it, Crabbe and Goyle were lifting their Disillusionment Charms _without consulting him first_, and he barely had enough time to feel the warming sensation of lifting his own reach his toes before Goyle was saying stupidly, "Hold it, Potter."

Harry turned around suddenly, and Draco felt as though he'd been hit by a Stunning Spell. His entire being seemed to freeze up, save the twisting feeling in his stomach. His neck burned, his heart was pounding, but he still felt like he was being held there by a piercing green gaze. Potter gave him one hateful look, and it felt like a punch in the gut. What was wrong with him? The surprise swept all thought from Draco's mind, and as he realized that he could appear to be hiding behind the wall that was his two friends, he could think of nothing better to say to show the Boy Wonder who was really in charge but, "That's my wand you're holding, Potter."

It was a very odd thing for him to say, considering, and Harry seemed to consider this as he looked down at the hawthorn wand before tightening his grip on it. "Not anymore. Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who's lent you theirs?"

Draco's face burned. "My mother."

Harry laughed, and Draco felt his skin crawl – or, were those goosebumps? It didn't matter. A tense moment passed between them, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy all aiming their wands at Harry while the young hero brandished Draco's wand back at him.

"So how come you three aren't with Voldemort?"

'_How come_'. Did Potter just HAVE to go sounding like an uneducated moron at a time like this? He knew it was the middle of a war and everything, but that was really no reason to allow the air of being educated to slip. But before Draco could say anything close to this, Crabbe was already spitting out, "We're gonna be rewarded." Draco frowned. He didn't much like that retort. "We 'ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to 'im." Had they? Draco didn't remember agreeing to such a thing at all – ever. In fact, he remembered his motives to be the exact OPPOSITE of that: to find whatever Potter was looking for before he did to use as a bargaining chip to get him as far from the Dark Lord as possible. But Draco was not prepared to have three wands pointed at him as opposed to just one, so instead of speaking up, he stayed quiet and just held his ground, wand fixed on Harry.

"Good plan," Potter said, and Draco bristled, not much appreciating his tone. "So how did you get in here?"

That was too much – didn't Harry remember? Didn't he recall, as so many did now, Draco's greatest conquest? Did he not remember the extraordinary magical repair Draco had done in this very room? He knew he did; he had stopped to admire the cabinet. Draco saw him. He was just doing this to be cute. He had to. "I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year," he said, trying to force Harry to feel his resentment toward his forgetfulness. He wanted him to remember that he wasn't facing a trio of morons. He wanted him to remember there was SOMEONE with a brain in there. "I know how to get in."

But Goyle, of course, could not resist the opportunity to sound like a completely moron and spoke up soon after. "We was hiding in the corridor outside," he grunted, sounding very much like a troll. "We can do Diss-lusion Charms now! And then, you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum!" Even from behind him, Draco could see Goyle's face twisting into one of confusion. "What's a die-dum?" He could have punched him.

"Harry?" _Shit_. "Are you talking to someone?"

As though it was a reflex to hearing the blood-traitor's voice, Crabbe immediately swung his arm around, aiming his wand at the junk heap to their right. "_Descendo!_"

The wall of useless junk began to totter, and some of it fell, crashing to the floor near where Ron Weasley stood. Draco heard Harry cry out, and even if it was probably just his friend's name, it set his teeth on edge, raising a rather protective part of him that he didn't know existed. So when Crabbe lifted his arm again, Draco cried, "No!" and immediately grabbed it, preventing the moron from casting the spell that could injure Harry. Upon realizing his betrayal, Draco quickly thought of a cover-up for his actions. "If you wreck the room, you might bury this diadem thing!" There. He wasn't in Slytherin for nothing.

"What's the matter?" Crabbe asked, ever the idiot, pulling his arm from Draco's grasp. "It's Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?"

_It's _diadem_, you idiot_, Draco thought, annoyed. The threat to his toy just angered him further and he snapped with heavy impatience and resentment, "Potter came in here to get it so that _must_ mean—"

"'Must mean'?" Crabbe turned to face him, and Draco was surprised by the ferocity in his gaze. "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, _Draco_. You an' your dad are finished."

He shrank back. Ouch. If that wasn't a blast to the ego, he wasn't sure what was. But it also cut a little deeper than that. Draco was sincerely hurt. While he'd always known that others had referred to Crabbe and Goyle as his "cronies" rather than his friends, he'd thought that between the three of them, they knew otherwise. He thought they had reached an unspoken understanding that they were all friends and the two larger boys were just too stupid to go through life unguided by his superior intellect and wit. Evidently, he was wrong. They WERE just cronies in their minds, stupid cronies who grew balls at precisely the wrong time. And up until that moment, he had just been...he had been their Voldemort. That was not a comforting thought at all.

"Harry? What's going on?"

"Harry?" mimicked Crabbe. "What's going - _no_ Potter! _Crucio!_" Harry, the idiot he was, had lunged for the diadem while the trio of Slytherins was distracted. The spell missed and instead hit the stone bust on which the discolored tiara sat, sending the diadem flying, but Draco still felt a streak of protectiveness run through him at the idea that such a curse could have hit Potter. And now, Draco had no idea where in the world to find his bargaining chip. Stupid Crabbe was messing up _everything_. "STOP!" Draco shouted, and he was satisfied to hear his voice echo in the large room. Realizing this meant EVERYONE in the area could hear him, he grabbed onto Crabbe's arm again and quickly added for his protection, "The Dark Lord wants him alive-"

"So?" Crabbe yelled, and Draco bristled as he was thrown off. "I'm not killing him, am I? But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what's the diff-?"

Draco grabbed the giant prat, pulling him toward him and pressing his wand to his throat, ready to hex his ugly head off. But just as he did this, a red light shot past them, missing Crabbe by mere centimeters. "It's that Mudblood!" the buffoon growled, suddenly distracted from the wand pressed to his throat, no doubt, by the pretty color that had just passed them by. Mistaking Draco's moment of anger as an attempt to save him, he gave the blond a thankful look before shouting, "_Avada Kedavra!_" and shooting a bolt of green light at Granger. Draco's stomach curled, but the Mudblood dodged the curse, and Potter came to her rescue by shooting an unspoken spell at Crabbe. Crabbe, the _idiot_, lurched to get out of the way, running into Draco in the process and managing to knock the wand out of his hand; it rolled out of sight beneath a mountain of broken furniture and boxes.

"You bloody _idiot_," Draco growled, trying to steady himself. The collision had left him a bit disoriented, but when he recovered, the scene he saw when he turned to face his frien-_cronies_ made his stomach lurch. Crabbe and Goyle were standing side by side with both of their wands pointed straight at Harry, ready to kill, ready to blast the Boy-Who-Lived to bits. Draco suddenly felt that protective streak run through him again and he shouted somewhat shakily and desperately, "Don't kill him!" Gathering his strength from the tension in the air that his words created, he repeated himself with more authority and volume. "DON'T KILL HIM!" He noted with satisfaction that it seemed Crabbe and Goyle weren't as free from his reign as they wished. They both hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Potter took advantage of that.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Goyle's wand flew out of his hand, and Draco watched its flight with his eyes, hoping to retrieve it when it hit the ground to get a wand that _really_ worked for him. However, he didn't have time to see where it landed because Granger, the stupid Mudblood, sent a Stunning Spell his way, and he had to dive out of the way to avoid it. He tried to get himself out of the crossfire after that, save his own ass, and he soon found sanctuary behind a three-legged wardrobe. What on Earth was the Mudblood thinking, attacking the wandless wizard who had just _SAVED HER BEST FRIEND'S BLOODY LIFE?_ Had she gone completely mad?

From behind the wardrobe, he heard Crabbe scream, "_Avada Kedavra!_" once more and that distracted him from his thoughts about Granger. A sensation similar to fear appeared in the pit of his gut as he realized he had no idea who the spell was aimed at or if it even hit its target. But then just as suddenly as it came, this new emotion was pushed from his body by Crabbe, who had rushed to Draco's side immediately after casting the curse and was now trying to join him behind the wardrobe. Draco pushed back against him with all he could, furious in that moment that a perfectly aimed curse at Harry or a badly aimed curse at his friends could have ended up hurting his rival. That _wasn't_ the plan at all.

"What the bloody Hell are you doing, Draco?" Crabbe demanded, trying to push past the small blond, his face red. "Let me back there! I need shelter!"

"No," Draco grunted, blocking his path. "If _you_ hadn't started throwing bloody Unforgiveables around, you wouldn't _need _protection-"

"Me? Come off it! We wouldn't even be in this mess if you didn't want to save your bloody boyfriend so badly-"

Draco's expression suddenly grew murderous, and Crabbe was lucky enough to suddenly be distracted in that moment by Ron Weasley attempting to hit him with a Stunning Spell. Upon realizing that he was messing with a very angry and very stupid Death Eater, Ron's eyes widened, and he took off down the aisle of junk as Crabbe turned to face him. The large boy took off after the lanky ginger, cursing, and blasting fire from his wand. As the old artifacts all around them went up in flame, he yelled at the poor Weasley, "Like it hot, scum?"

Everything happened very quickly after that. Draco let out a small shout as the wardrobe he was hiding behind caught fire, and he stumbled his way over to an unconscious Goyle who, after inspecting to see if he was even alive, he suspected was hit by one of Granger's Stunning Spells. Harry was shouting, "_Aguamenti!"_ in a desperate attempt to put the fire out, but all the water his wand shot out immediately evaporated into the air. Granger and Weasley were standing together at the opening of the fireless side of the aisle, as if unsure if they should move, and Crabbe's screams could be heard even above the roar of the fire. As the flames neared the Boy Wonder, Draco's random sense of protectiveness took over again and he pulled Harry toward the fireless part of the room.

"RUN!"

Then he let go, grabbed hold of the Stunned Goyle, and began to drag him along the escape route, desperate to get out. Crabbe was long gone - the moron had run off, terrified, when he had realized that the fire he had created had no true master, and that even if it did, it certainly wasn't him. Potter and company were not far behind him, but Draco was coming to find that he was slowed by the weight of the pawn he was trying to pull to safety. Their path was soon blocked by a wall of fire, and Draco let out a scream as burning items fell from a junk heap, missing him and Goyle by mere inches. He managed to get the pair of them up atop a pile of desks, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the flames reached them, and without a wand, Draco had no way to protect either of them from the inferno.

_Oh what a way to die_, he thought, holding onto Goyle for dear life, not daring to let his cro-_no_, damn it, his _friend_ slip into the fire. Trying to get as far from the heat as possible, one oddly reassuring thought flew through his mind. _At least Potter got out of this mess alive..._

As if the very thought of him acted as a homing beacon, Potter took that moment to dive through the smoke on a broom, heading toward them at breakneck speed. _WHAT is that idiot doing?_ Draco found himself wondering in spite of himself, and it was only when Potter had made his way past them once and turned to go back that Draco realized that _he had turned around to save them_. Feeling oddly giddy by the thought of this, Draco reached out an arm for Potter to grab. Angry as he was that Potter had put his life in jeopardy once more, he was no one to turn down a rescuer. But it was no use. Goyle was weighing him down, and it had gotten so hot that every attempt Draco made to grab Harry's hand was futile. He kept slipping...

Then a cry of, "IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, HARRY!" broke through the smoke, and suddenly there were Weasley and Granger, trying to pull Goyle onto their brooms as Potter ushered Draco onto the back of his own.

"The door," Draco immediately shouted, "get to the door, the door!" But Harry ignored him - he seemed to have spotted something better than escaping hurtling toward the ground and had decided to take Draco and himself in that direction as well. Draco held tight to Potter's waist, trying to ignore the twisting of his gut and the lightness in his head that could only be described as euphoria as he did so. He chose to focus instead on not falling off the bloody broom, though even in his head the bitter thought felt light and joyous.

_What was happening to him?_

He didn't have time to dwell, though. Harry had pulled out of his dive with something caught around his wrist, and ever curious, Draco shifted to try and see what it was. There, hanging from Harry's arm, was the bloody diadem. _There goes your bargaining chip_, Draco thought bitterly, and he wondered for a moment why he had even cared to get Harry out of this mess in the first place. They weren't friends - far from it, in fact. They never communicated in any friendly way at all and as far as Draco could tell, Harry didn't even like him. So what was it that he had to gain from getting Potter out at all?

But then Harry swerved suddenly, and when he turned around to make sure that Draco was okay, he established eye contact, and the blond suddenly _knew_. He _cared_ about Harry Potter. And not in the way that he _cared_ about Goyle or _cared_ that it was dinner time. He cared about Harry Potter the way he cared about Quidditch and his family and himself. He cared about Harry Potter in _that_ way.

They collided with the wall outside the Room of Requirement not long after that realization, Harry too focused on making sure Malfoy wasn't going to fall off to pay attention to what he was heading into. And maybe it was the collision or the suddenly change in air quality or maybe it was the realization that he had _feelings_ for Harry Freakin' Potter, but when Draco fell off the broom, the first thing he did when he came to a stop was get up on all fours and retch onto the hard floor of the castle. Marvelous.

He then turned away from where he'd gotten sick, attempting to sit as far from his mess as possible as he surveyed the situation he had gotten himself into. Harry was sitting on the floor, staring dumbly at the blank wall where the door to the Room of Requirement should have been, looking very much surprised to be alive. Weasley and Granger were sitting together on the ground, panting and holding hands, a still unconscious Goyle on the ground beside them. They smiled at one another, sharing a private moment, and Draco had to turn away as he felt his stomach getting queasy again. His brow furrowed as he did so. Wait - something didn't seem right...someone seemed to be missing...

"C-Crabbe?" he choked out, surveying the corridor again. "C-Crabbe..."

"He's dead," Weasley said sharply, all traces of his smiley exchange with Granger gone as he looked Malfoy in the face, and the corridor got relatively quiet for a moment as they all silently mourned the loss of a classmate. Draco felt as though he'd been stabbed in the gut. Even if Crabbe had been an insufferable git in his final moments of life, he had still been someone that Draco had called "friend" for many, many years. He was there to listen to Draco whine, to be the butt of many of his jokes, and really just to sit there and be...well be friendly with. The idea of him being gone was...it was...impossible. It was something he never expected could happen, much like getting the idea that he, Draco Malfoy, could ever possibly have feelings for Harry Potter. But, as he caught Potter's eye, Draco was beginning to realize that this wasn't so strange a thought anymore. Times had changed.

Harry gave him a sympathetic look, and the genuine caring and concern in his eyes mixed with the intensity of all that had just happened was too much for Draco to handle. His head felt light once more, the world began to spin, and the last thing he remembered thinking before passing out was, _Potter, what in the world have you done to me?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: Oh, hello again. I'm just putting this here to say that I know James and Lily got together in their seventh year. However, because Harry wasn't born until three years after they'd left Hogwarts, I'm disregarding this for my sake. If you don't like it...well then I guess you're rather stuck with having to deal with it so long as you're reading my fan_FICTION_. (; Also, I apologize now for the weird pacing of this chapter. Trying to get Sirius and Draco in the same position with their feelings is difficult considering...things. Yeah. So I apologize. Carry on now._  
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_Potter, what in the world have you done to me?_

Sirius was beginning to feel very much like an overprotective mother. Though James had gotten into some serious trouble before (between Quidditch accidents, encounters with Snivellus gone wrong, and practical jokes that had backfired, he was pretty sure that he had seen it all), he had never done something before that had left him unconscious for a full three days. And that scared him - that scared him very, very much. The jagged scar that had decided to claim its place on James' forehead was a daily reminder of what had happened, the damage that his best friend had sustained. And maybe it was that the scar was in a visible place for once, but now whenever James did something dangerous, it wasn't just Remus who spoke up in protest. It was Sirius, too, and (when he realized the other two were against it) Peter chimed in with his disagreement as well. The idea of something else happening to James during another one of his stupid stints was too much for any of them to bear - only now, Sirius was getting more vocal about his concern.

And it wasn't just that - he was also more protective of James in regular situations. Whenever Snape threw an insult James' way, Sirius felt the burning hatred twist in his gut as much (if not more) than it did when it was he who was scorned. When James skipped steps heading down to breakfast, Sirius felt his breathing catch with every stumble. During Quidditch practice, Sirius went down to watch more and found himself cringing when James did something stupid. If he was hit by a Bludger, Sirius was the first to rush to his side and the last to leave him alone. And every time, James gave him a curious look, and every time, Sirius couldn't find a way to explain himself. But his eyes always flickered to that scar on his forehead. Always.

He could tell that he was starting to annoy his friend, too. But he couldn't help it. Going three days without his companion had affected Sirius Black in ways that nobody pretended to understand. He was jumpier, clumsier, and around James, he was beginning to look stupider than ever. He flushed every time James referred to them as a pair; he brightened at his touch. And when James was hurt, he was all over him in an instant, checking his pulse, his head, asking him every question about every possible thing that could possible go wrong. Snape liked to joke that Sirius had finally snapped and started thinking he was James' wife. And for once, everyone else in the school was actually listening to the stupid git. Because that's honestly how Sirius acted - protective, overbearing, but still very, very caring. Everyone had known for years that he and James cared very deeply for one another. But until they were almost separated permanently, no one was really sure how deep that love ran.

It was almost sickening, really. If James sneezed, Sirius pulled out a handkerchief. If he coughed, the other boy immediately looked alarm. A complaint of a head or stomachache usually sent Sirius on the road to a nervous breakdown, and even Remus had to tell Sirius to tone it down every once in a while. "James is a big boy," he would tell his friend quietly. "Careless and stupid sometimes, but that's it. Now come on, Sirius, let's go get some food from the kitchens. That'll calm you down."

But even that never worked for long. His concern for his friend had reached an almost impossible level of insanity, and one day, after Sirius nearly hexed a fourth year who tried to give James something with peanuts in it despite the fact that he was slightly allergic, Remus was forced to pull his friend to the side.

"Sirius, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, stepping in his friend's line of vision so that he would pay attention to him instead of James. Sirius grumbled something about stupid fourth year twits trying to kill his friends, and Remus shook his head, taking a tight hold on the other boy's arm. "Come with me, mate. We have to talk." Sirius nodded and moved to walk past Lupin to grab James, but his friend shook his head. "No. Alone." He went grudgingly, casting one final look in James' direction to make sure he hadn't died in the minute he was away. He hadn't.

Remus led him far from the Great Hall, down by the lake where several kids who had already finished their lunch were tossing rocks into the water. The pair found a nice, shady patch of grass to sit on, facing one another. Remus stared intently at his friend, trying to read his expression; Sirius refused to meet his eye and just started picking at the grass, knowing already what Remus was going to say. But he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want anyone to say it; he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"You've gone a bit mad." The only indication that Sirius heard him was that he had stopped tearing up the grass for a second before carrying on with his work. The two sat in silence a little longer. Remus let his friend let out whatever frustration was building inside him on the grass, and it pained him that he'd have to stop him in his work eventually. He knew there was something going wrong in there, something that had snapped. But he didn't want to admit it, and he knew Sirius was even more reluctant to do so. The idea that he couldn't hide forever seemed to dawn on Sirius, too, and he stopped picking at the grass to finally look his friend in the eye.

"I think I went mad a long time ago," he said, and he tried to force a smile and a laugh. Neither one of them bought it. He let out a breath and looked out at the water for a second, in doing so remembering all the times James had almost drowned in that lake. His stomach twisted. "I don't know why I'm doing it, if that's what this is about. It's more of a...a reflex now than anything." Remus remained silent, though, just staring at his friend critically. Sirius could feel his gaze, feel him silently assessing his words. But he didn't turn back to look at him. If he did, Remus would know he was lying. "It just sort of happens."

Silence again. It was killing him. Finally, though, Remus seemed to have thought enough about it, and he spoke. "So when did you figure it out?"

This caught Sirius's attention. He looked back at his friend. "Figure what out?"

"That you were attracted to James." Sirius was struck dumb. "Don't even try to deny it, Sirius. It won't do you any good with me."

The elder Black had gone back to picking at the grass, and Remus bit his lip, suspecting that he had gone too far. Silence washed over them once more. The young werewolf took the opportunity to allow Sirius to think and copied his friend's motions in picking at the grass and looking out toward the lake. He had dreaded one day having this conversation with one of them - James and Sirius were really a pair that were too close for their own good, and he had suspected that it had something to do with this for a while. He'd always thought that James would be the first one to give in, though. He was less stubborn than Sirius by far, and certainly brighter. But he supposed that maybe that had nothing to do with it - even now, in his silence, Remus could tell exactly what Sirius was thinking. He could sense his confusion, his frustration, his denial...Maybe James was smarter, but Sirius practically bled emotion. It was only natural he was the first to realize what was going on.

"Last summer," Sirius said suddenly, and Remus looked back over at him. He didn't say much more, but by his tone Remus could tell that his words weren't an answer, but the beginning of a story. Sirius cleared his throat. "Last summer," he tried again, "I got into a spot of...of _trouble_ let's say with my own family." Remus nodded - he knew about this already. "And I moved in with James. His parents are generous, very, very generous people..." He trailed off and looked out toward the water once more, and Remus furrowed his brow. That wasn't anything he hadn't been told before. But he remained quiet; Sirius would reach his point eventually.

"One day," Sirius carried on, still looking out at the water, "we went uh...we went down to this...lake. And James..." He smiled and laughed, shaking his head. "James was being a bloody idiot like usual and he goes, 'Ay, Sirius. Watch this!' And the moron launches himself off this dock and starts doing all these stupid stunts in the air." Remus smiled. That sounded like James. "He ended up doing something wrong and he hit the water hard. There was this big splash and when the water settled, I couldn't see him, and I was freaking out...So I got in the water to look for him and he comes out of nowhere and pulls me down with him. I nearly drowned - I was caught off guard and he wouldn't let me out of the bloody water." He looked down at the grass and started picking at it again, his story completed. They sat there for a few more minutes, and then Remus spoke.

"Was it then? That you...that you realized it."

Sirius's shoulders seemed to tense, and his movements stopped once more. After a few seconds, though, he relaxed and nodded tightly. "Yeah. It was then."

Remus didn't push him anymore. They sat there together in silence until other students started pouring out of the front doors, finally finished with their meals. They were joined soon enough by Peter and James, the latter sitting down so close to Sirius he was practically in his lap and asking with genuine curiosity what they'd been talking, a grin on his face. Sirius immediately flushed at the contact, but he matched his friend's wide grin as he said, "Nothing important. Anyone else try to poison you while we were gone?"

"Actually, funny story. So after you guys left..."

James then dove into a story - or a lie, more like, probably in an attempt to rile Sirius up - and the only person paying more attention to him than the ever awe-struck Peter was Sirius, who was positively beaming at being near his friend once more. And even though he hit James roughly on the shoulder when his story ended and even as the pair slid easily into the playful banter they usually shared, Sirius had honestly never looked happier, and it would take a lot of searching to find someone who could look upon another human being with such admiration. Remus smiled at the pair of them before beginning to tear up grass again, listening to James go into yet another story to represent his bravery and intellect with Sirius interjecting every now and then to represent James' cowardice and stupidity. He laughed, shaking his head. They were quite the pair, James Potter and Sirius Black.

After that day, Sirius seemed to calm down a little bit. He was still wary of everything James did, but he certainly gave in to his friend's stupid ideas more than before, and he definitely wasn't anywhere close to hexing fourth years anymore. Something about admitting what he'd been so afraid of had released some of his inner tension, and he was visibly more relaxed. Most people said that he was just coming down from the fear of getting James in the hospital wing again so soon, but Remus knew better. Sirius was so afraid of completely losing it and having no one to turn to again if James was hurt that he was determined to never let him injure himself for as long as he lived. But he had shared his secret with someone now; now he had someone to comfort him if the boy he cared so much about hurt himself that badly again. Now, the thought of a hurt James wasn't as unbearable as before.

However, he didn't seem to have come fully to terms with how he felt. After he realized what was happening and admitted it out loud, Remus had always thought that he would become...well, Sirius Black around his friend. It was no secret that the boy was handsome, charming, and extremely flirtatious when he needed to be. With his sights set on James, it had always been predicted that he would try to draw his friend to him the way he used to do with the females in their year. But if anything, Sirius did the opposite. Every opportunity he got to be charming, he ignored. Every brush of the arm with James made him flush and a couple times, he even shrank away from it. When James asked to see him alone, he always gave Remus a fearful look, as if he was afraid James was going to figure him out and reject him the moment they were alone in private. And whenever he returned from these meetings with James, he looked very much like a frightened rabbit and James always seemed to have his jaw clenched, as though disappointed. It was strange - though Sirius was definitely more protective of his friend, he didn't put his arm around his neck anymore. They didn't walk shoulder-to-shoulder, and though they'd spent many a night on the common room couch together, getting lost together in homework and stupid games, they now made a point to sit in separate arm chairs when doing their work. Something had definitely changed. Their friendship didn't get any less strong, and if either boy noticed a difference, they didn't say anything. But it was less...intimate. Like they were afraid to touch each other. And it was this fact that made another private meeting between Sirius and Remus so important.

But Remus was coming to find that getting him alone was getting harder and harder. Since their last meeting, James hadn't let Sirius be alone with Remus for more than a couple minutes at a time. If Remus asked to see Sirius in the library, James insisted on tagging along, usually using some stupid excuse about homework to justify why he needed to be there. If Remus wanted to walk with Sirius near the lake, James claimed that some fresh air sounded nice. Even in the common room, James and Sirius seemed to go to bed and wake up at the same time, and they never left the company of the other if they could help it. And while Remus was very happy that James wanted to be near his friend, it was also very infuriating. There were some things they needed to talk about, and if James kept insisting on being at Sirius's side at every moment, that couldn't very well happen. So Remus had to take drastic measures. For the first time, he had to force Sirius to skip watching Quidditch practice.

It wasn't easy. At first, Sirius made a lot of excuses ("James needs me there! He plays better when I'm watching." "He's useless without me; I come up with some of their best plays." "We share that broom, I just want to make sure he doesn't damage it." "It's the one time I get to stare at him without it feeling creepy! Come on, Remus, really?") and then he made the ridiculous accusation that Remus had been trying to pull him and James apart for weeks. When he realized that there was no way to escape another heart-to-heart with his friend, he eventually gave in, but he warned that James wasn't going to be very happy about it. Remus decided that he could deal with it. This was more important.

"Well this was fun," James said as he finished his breakfast the morning of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's next practice. "But if you'll all excuse me, the Quidditch pitch is calling my name. Ready, Sirius?" He glanced to his right to see if the other boy was finished with what he was eating, but Sirius didn't look back up at him. He just continued to play with the eggs on his plate. James' brow furrowed. "Sirius?"

"Actually, James," Remus spoke up, and the other boy's attention snapped to him, "Sirius and I have something we need to talk about. But we'll be out at the Quidditch field as soon as we're done." James looked surprised - since he'd joined the team, he and Sirius had always gone down to practices together. He, again, glanced to his right to see if maybe Remus was just joking but Sirius refused to meet his gaze.

"Fine," he said suddenly, letting his fork fall onto his plate with a _clang_. "I'll just see you two afterward, then. Come on, Peter. I don't think you've ever watched us practice before." Pettigrew's eyes immediately widened at James' offer, and he was up and by his friend's side in an instant, looking at him almost hungrily. Sirius shot Remus a murderous look, but the werewolf just shrugged. There were more important things in life than Quidditch practice.

"This better be good, Remus," Sirius growled as he followed his friend back up to the Gryffindor common room. "I swear, I'm never going to hear the end of this. James is already annoyed that you keep trying to pull me away-"

"Hm, he's not jealous is he?" Remus teased, and Sirius flushed.

"Of course he's not jealous, Moony, don't be ridiculous. You're just being awfully pushy lately, that's all. You know how much James hates that."

Remus gave him a knowing look, causing him to flush again, before turning to the portrait of the Fat Lady and saying loudly, "_Facta, non verba_." Sirius raised his eyebrows. Had the password changed and he didn't know it? Evidently it had, because the portrait swung upon with a quiet, "Indeed." They then crawled through to get into the tower, Remus looking particularly amused. Not wanting to give into whatever game he was playing, Sirius refused to ask what was so funny.

Thankfully, the common room was empty when the two boys entered, making Remus's job of finding a quiet place where they could be alone that much easier. He sat down in an armchair and Sirius sat down across from him, staring at him critically. "Well?" he said, his tone bordering on demanding. "Make it quick. Quidditch practice only lasts an hour or so."

Only? How long did Sirius honestly think this would take? "Calm down, mate," Remus said with a laugh. "You'll be able to watch him play. I promise." Sirius still didn't look happy, but at least he didn't protest either.

"So what's this about? I already told you how I..." He looked around almost anxiously. "How I _feel_. I haven't hexed anybody. So...what's up?"

Remus laughed. "Well, it's not really a bad thing that I want to talk about," he said. "You're right. You've been doing much better. It's just...well, are things okay with you and James?" Sirius raised a curious eyebrow. "I mean...I don't know. Something just seems...different, there." No reply, but his friend did cast his gaze to the ground. So there _was_ something wrong. "Did you tell him?"

Sirius's eyes widened. "No!" he said. "No, God no, of course not." Remus frowned.

"Why not?"

"Why not? _Why not?_ Are you really asking me that right now?"

"Well...yes."

Sirius looked at him incredulously, as though he'd suggested that he get down on one knee and propose to his friend. "Well because James is...well because he's _straight_ that's why not!" he said, blushing furiously. "He isn't barking up my tree, he doesn't play for my team, _he isn't _that _kind of guy_. I mean, I thought that was obvious, Remus. We've only watched him pine after that Lily Evans for the past six years." As he said this, the truth of his words seemed to wash over him, and he slumped back in his chair, defeated. "It just wouldn't work out. It'd just make things...awkward."

Remus smiled sadly. He thought something like this was going on inside Sirius's head. He hadn't realized how oblivious the two had been to the other's feelings until now. "I promise you," he said, "that James is completely open as to what 'team' he plays for." Sirius looked over at him, but said nothing. "And I also promise that Lily Evans is just...she's just something James is trying to prove to himself. If something more substantial, something within his reach would present itself to him...He'd go for it."

"Yeah? And how do you know all that? Been pulling James over for bloody one-on-ones, too?" When Remus didn't answer, he looked him full in the eye. "Wait, you haven't been, have you?" When he still didn't answer, he said lowly, "Remus..."

"It was before you confessed, if it helps," he blurted out, and Sirius leaned forward, interested. "And he never like...named names before. He was just _saying_ that sometimes he felt like...like what he was chasing with Lily just wasn't...right. It wasn't him."

Sirius frowned. "And did he ever say what was 'him'?"

"Well...no. But he mentioned...ahh, I shouldn't be telling you this. He mentioned that other people - no _names_ don't give me that look like I can tell you names. Merlin...He just mentioned people of all genders tickled his fancy and maybe he was batting for the wrong team. That's _all_."

He looked over at Sirius, trying to gauge his reaction. He saw a flurry of emotions run across his face - happiness, nervousness, hope, fear, amusement. _My friend_, he thought, _the open book_. Then, though, something crossed Sirius's face that looked an awful lot like pain. "I still can't tell him," he said quietly.

Remus sighed. "And why is that?"

Sirius established eye contact, and he was surprised to see that his friend was practically in tears. "Because I'm his best mate, Moony," he said just as quietly. "We're friends, practically brothers. I couldn't..." He choked on his words. "I couldn't risk that. It's not fair to him."

Remus wanted to argue. He wanted to push his friend a bit, tell him that James might really _want_ to hear him admit his feelings, that hiding them wasn't really fair to him. He wanted to tell him that James would understand no matter what the outcome, that they were too close to let something like this tear them apart. But Sirius looked as though he might actually lose it if prodded, so he instead just stood up and walked to his side to place a hand on his shoulder. "Come on," he said soothingly. "Let's go to Quidditch practice." Sirius nodded and stood shakily, giving him a smile.

"Maybe one day I'll get the courage," he said softly. "But not today."

Remus nodded. He knew it would take a while. He just wished he didn't feel as though his friends were growing apart because of it. "Just do me a favor," he told his friend, and Sirius whispered quietly, "Anything."

"Hug him when you see him." Sirius raised his eyebrows. "You haven't touched him in like...a week. I think he's dying without it." His friend laughed rather shakily, and nodded.

"Okay. That, I'll do."

Remus grinned. "Good. I think it'll do you some good, too." He leaned in close and a flush rose up Sirius's neck as he said, "I didn't want to tell you this before, but you could really use some contact, too. You look bloody awful." Then he dropped his hand from his friend's shoulder and they made their way out of the tower, Sirius looking slightly happier than he did before. Remus smiled to himself.

His friends - he loved them, but they were idiots.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I am not J.K. Rowling, but this is based on Chapters 32, 33, and 36 of her brilliant book _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. You may recognize some dialogue. (; Enjoy.

His friends - he loved them, but they were idiots.

If he could even call them friends. The other Death Eaters hadn't been very courteous to him and his family these past few years, after all. Ever since his father had been imprisoned, they'd been treating them like scum, like they were TRYING to foil the Dark Lord's plans. And while Draco would admit to not agreeing with everything Voldemort had done since he had began his service under him, he was in no way ever trying to stop him. That was suicidal.

But honestly, those Death Eaters who _did_ end up coming to his rescue were complete nutters. First, they sprayed water on him to wake him which wasn't very smart on their part as all it did was guarantee he woke up pissed off and wet. And then, they thought Goyle was dead and they made a big show of kicking him around to check while Draco gathered himself. And _then_ the first thing they did was have the nerve to talk to him about Harry _sodding_ Potter.

He knew that the Dark Lord was looking for him. Who honestly _didn't_ know that? And he knew he wanted to kill him. But why did every stupid Death Eater who came his way insist on talking about it? All the time? It was always, _oh when Potter's dead_ this and _when Potter's dead_ that. If they weren't in the middle of a war and he didn't have a very strong love for living, he'd turn around and hex every last one of them until there was nothing left but their internal organs lovingly moved to spell out the words _Harry Potter Lives On, Bitches_. Honestly, he wasn't Harry - if they wanted to talk about his death, they could find him and try using some stupid insult including those words only to be disarmed and then Stunned. They didn't have to bother him about it.

After reviving Goyle (with a murmur of, "Morons," under his breath at the flush of the Death Eaters who had been kicking him around), Draco turned and looked at those who had woken him up, a determined look in his eye. "Where's Potter?" he demanded, and when the two hooded figures didn't answer right away, he repeated himself. "_Where's Potter?_"

"Bloody ran off that way, he did," the smaller of the two said, pointing down the corridor to his right. "Some bloody ginger got 'imself killed and then the Mudblood dragged 'im off-"

Draco winced. Ginger? Ron? "Was there another ginger with them?"

"-and they were-...Another ginger? Well yeah, the blood traitor ran off after 'im. Must've known the other one, though, they were both pretty mad."

For some reason, he felt a surge of relief. Harry was not mourning the death of his best friend. He was active; he was moving. "How long ago was this?"

"Oh, I don't know. 'Bout ten minutes or so."

Ten minutes. Time enough to be murdered. "Thanks, mate," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Take care of...of Goyle. Dunno what else the..." He swallowed. "The Mudblood did." The other Death Eater nodded and Draco turned to go before changing his mind. "And give me your wand."

"I beg your bloody pard-"

"GIVE ME YOUR WAND."

He did.

Then Draco ran off, eyes searching desperately for any sign of Harry Potter. He came up short, though. Through all the spell fire, the movement, the action, the rubble being created, that familiar mane of hair could not be spotted, his voice could not be heard. He didn't see his own wand held in the pale hand, and he didn't see Harry's figure moving through the crowd. This bothered him. However, being back in the action did remind him that if Harry WAS dead, the battle would pretty much be over. So he at least had that to reassure him.

He ran up a staircase, frantic to catch a glimpse of Harry. He pushed past several people, trying to make it down to the Entrance Hall. However, another Death Eater soon blocked his path, brandishing his wand at him. Draco immediately bristled. "I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side!"

Two very important things happened then - first, the Death Eater was Stunned suddenly, a blast of red light coming out of nowhere. Then, as Draco looked around to find his savior, BAM!

He saw stars at the force the impact and he fell back on top of the man who had just been Stunned, his mouth filling with what tasted like blood. Then out of nowhere again, he heard the shout. "And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!"

Weasley. He'd recognize that pissed off shout anywhere, having had it aimed at him so many times in the past. He must have been invisible...and he said 'we' so that must mean...

"Potter," he said quietly, eyes widening, and he forced himself to rise, spitting and then wiping the blood from his mouth. Harry was alive; he was alive, his best friend just punched him, and they were heading toward the Entrance Hall just as he had been before he was stopped. He made his way down the same path, and when he reached the top of the staircase that led down the main floor, he found him.

"HAGRID NO!"

The cry immediately drew his attention - Harry. That was Harry's voice. And soon, the man he had been searching for appeared out of nowhere, running in the direction of his oafish friend. He was bent over, looking rather ridiculous actually, trying to avoid the spells and reach his friend at the same time. "HAGRID COME BACK."

But then a wave of giant spiders was bursting into the area, and Hagrid vanished amongst them. A few moments later, they retreated again, but in the spot where the half-giant used to be, there was nothing. He was lost in the sea of spiders.

"HAGRID!"

Harry moved as though he was going to sprint down the steps and Draco called out before he could stop himself. "HARRY, NO!"

But it was too late. He had already gone out the door, down the steps, and into the grounds and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt like fainting again, but he forced himself not to. What if Harry needed him? He rushed down the steps, looking out the main doors of the Entrance Hall for any sign of him, but he was lost in the dark among all the fighting. Draco swallowed, trying to choke back frustrated tears. _Why_ did Potter have to be such a _Gryffindor_ all the bloody time! Why couldn't he just keep himself safe? He ran down the stairs, frantically looking for the boy he'd grown so fond of, Stunning a few Death Eaters as he did so in hopes of temporarily keeping them from harming Harry. But it was no use. In the dark, he could hardly see anything, and if he didn't put his guard up and start thinking about himself, he was going to be killed.

He ran out toward the Quidditch pitch, hoping Harry had still been drawn there in the midst of battle, but he found it burning, the stands slowly falling apart in the inferno. His chest practically burned along with it as his heart was torn to shreds. Not the Quidditch field. They could destroy the castle, they could Stun his friends, they could do what they bloody well pleased to his enemies. _But how dare they touch his Quidditch field._

He ran. He ran far from the field, from the battle, from the castle, trying to find a place where no one could find him. He was sick of it. Sick of Voldemort, sick of Hogwarts, sick of people not knowing if they could trust him or not, sick of his bloody world falling apart. He was _done_ with this war, done with all of it! He nearly stumbled from lightheadedness when he remembered he still hadn't found Harry, that he could be hurt, but as long as the Dark Lord didn't announce his death, he harbored hope that he'd find him in a quiet place. Some way. Somehow. He'd find him. But he couldn't stay in battle - he would die. Surely, he would die.

It seemed that he had run forever before he finally found a spot where no one else was. He had hexed a few Death Eaters who tried to follow him on his way out and their bodies made a small trail, but other than that - he had found it. For the first time in years. Solitude.

Or so he thought. It seemed just as he sat down, chest heaving, a high, cold voice was breaking into the sky, into his thoughts, into his very world, shattering everything inside him. He gripped his head as he let out a shout of pain.

**"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."**

No...No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have...Harry couldn't be...

**"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."**

One hour? Resist him? So that meant...

**"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you."**

Draco cringed as his heart soared. Harry was alive. His Harry. And the Dark Lord dared speak his name.

**"You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."**

_Bring it on,_ Draco thought to himself, gripping the unfamiliar wand in his grasp. But he had to wait...he had to wait the hour. If he returned to the school now, he would just face accusations. They would never take him back as he was now, a broken Death Eater who had finally had enough.

_Ex-Death Eater,_ he told himself fiercely. _Ex._

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

His heart pounded. It had to have been nearly an hour by now. He stood up, wand at the ready, ready to enter the battle again and defend Harry to the death. Then he felt it - his spirit breaking, his heart collapsing, his head exploding. Voldemort was speaking.

**"Harry Potter is dead."**

"NO." Draco shouted out to no one as his chest exploded in pain. Tears stung his eyes, and his stomach knotted. He feared vomiting again, but he somehow managed to keep himself upright. His head pounded. He didn't know anything could hurt this badly. It couldn't be true...It wasn't true.

**"We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."**

No, no, no. No, it wasn't true. It wasn't true. Draco wouldn't _let it_ be true.

He forced his legs to move, despite the fact that he didn't want to leave that spot ever again. He forced himself to feel despite not wanting to live. He was angry. Angry at Voldemort, for killing the man he...harbored feelings for, angry at the Death Eaters for assisting him, angry at the Order for allowing Harry to go, angry at Harry for going...And angry at himself, for running away, for not being able to stop the stupid boy from doing the most Gryffindor-ish thing of them all and sacrificing himself. He hated them. All of them. Everything. And he was going to kill him. He was going to kill that ruddy snake-faced bastard, and he was going to revel in it. Who cares if everyone hated him? Harry was dead. Draco had nothing to lose. He was going to kill Voldemort, or he was going to die trying.

He didn't even hear the rest of Voldemort's words. All he heard was the insistent throbbing in his head, the anger building up around his ears and preventing any other sound from getting through. He walked through the grounds, back toward the action, back toward the mourners who would probably blame him for this. But he didn't care. Voldemort would show himself, and he would take his chance then. He would kill him. He would kill him.

When he got back, he wasn't prepared for what was laid out before him. Everyone around him looked completely tense - they didn't want to believe Harry was dead anymore than he did. But the Dark Lord said he was dead; he was bringing them proof. He was _showing_ himself. Did they not realize that this meant all was lost? Did they not realize that Harry was...

He couldn't finish that thought. He couldn't let himself. He'd break down. He turned to face the castle, taking in the damages, looking at all that he had let get destroyed. Him. This was his doing. He had been the one to let the Death Eaters in the year before. Him. He was the reason Dumbledore was dead. He was the reason Voldemort had access to the school. It was him, all him, and he realized now that the Vanishing Cabinet was nothing to be proud of. It was vile. It was evil, it was horrible, and he was glad it burned and was ashamed Harry ever saw it in the first place. Ashamed he had used it. And then he heard the most horrible noise in the world.

"NO!"

He didn't know Professor McGonagall could have so much emotion in her voice, let alone that much pain. He turned as a familiar laugh reached his ears, and immediately doubled over and retched.

It was true.

Harry was...he was...

"No!"

"_No!_"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Soon, everyone was crying out, and even Draco couldn't stop himself from joining in with their insults, their mourning, their despair. His throat was raw and sore, his voice rough, but he openly voiced his feelings now, the man he cared so much about dead right before his eyes. He had nothing to lose from it, nothing to gain. He was only being true now.

"SILENCE!"

Bright light burst forward, and everyone was forced to silence with a loud BANG. But Voldemort's spell didn't stop hot tears from rushing down Draco's face, nor did it stop the pounding of his heart or the throbbing of the anger that was building up inside him. It didn't stop him from hating Voldemort-

"Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs."

- it didn't stop him from hating the Death Eaters -

"You see? Harry Potter is dead!"

- it didn't stop him from hating those who didn't stop him -

"Do you understand now, deluded ones?"

- it didn't stop him from hating himself -

"He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

- and it didn't stop him from loving Harry.

"He beat you!" Weasley yelled, and suddenly Draco felt his tongue unravel, felt his mouth open, felt hate spilling from his lips. There was another loud bang and he was silenced once more.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort sneered. "Killed while trying to save himself-"

Draco moved to take action, even raising his wand, but Neville _sodding_ Longbottom beat him to it. There was a bang, and Neville shouted in pain as he was Disarmed. Voldemort caught his wand and threw it to the side, laughing.

"And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

A cackle from Voldemort's line of followers caught Draco's attention, and he looked in its direction to see his Aunt Bellatrix standing there, looking delighted. A mixture of emotions ran through him and it took all of his power not to vomit once more. Next to Bellatrix was his mother, looking frantic, and his father, looking deathly pale. His heart immediately surged with emotion and he wanted nothing more than to run to them, hug them, cry with them at the loss of this boy. But he stood his ground. He dared not move.

In his sudden discovery of his parents, though, he missed most of what happened. A cry of, "I'll join you when hell freezes over!" broke him from his thoughts, and he turned back to Longbottom in time for him to shout, "Dumbledore's Army!"

Despite the fact that it had been him who had disbanded Dumbledore's Army in their sixth year by capturing them and turning them over to Umbridge, Draco found himself raising a fist in the air and shouting the words back with the rest of the group.

"Very well," said Voldemort lowly. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

Voldemort waved his wand. One of the castle's windows shattered and from it, came the battered Sorting Hat. The Dark Lord grabbed it out of the air, dangled it in front of the crowd.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," he said. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

Draco, who had always been proud of the silver and green he wore, immediately loosened the knot of his tie and took it off, throwing it to the ground and stepping on it as though that would drive it away. Around him, he saw several other Slytherins doing the same. He looked up to see what Voldemort's next plan was and found himself staring at an odd sight. Longbottom looked stiff, rigid, and The Sorting Hat was forced onto Neville's head.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and he flicked his wand. The Sorting Hat immediately burst into flame.

Draco shouted along with several other people as Neville stood, helpless. He forced himself to remain rooted there, to steady his stomach, to try and look away to make it less painful, but he couldn't, it was like a trainwreck...

Several things happened at once. A cry of, "HAGGER!" broke through the air, arrows fell from the sky, Longbottom was moving, brandishing a sword...But the only thing Draco saw was that there was movement over where Harry had been in Hagrid's arms and suddenly, he wasn't there anymore. His heart seemed to stop beating. _What in the world...?_

But he didn't have time to think about it. Around him, all Hell broke loose as everyone began charging the Death Eaters. Over the noise of the crowd, Hagrid was shouting, "HARRY! HARRY - WHERE'S HARRY?" but no one but Draco seemed to be paying attention. A hippogriff flew overheard, and Draco recognized it as the one that had scratched him in his third year, and he found himself feeling guilty once more at misdeeds of the past...

But then his mom was slamming into him, wrapping her arms around him, and she was muttering, "My sweet boy, my sweet, sweet boy, he wasn't lying. My sweet boy," as his father came around and placed a hand on his shoulder, beaming, with tears silently running down his pale cheeks.

"Mum," Draco croaked, surprised by the hoarse-ness of his voice. "Dad...How did you-?"

"Find you?" Lucius interrupted. "Your mother couldn't keep her eyes off you the entire time the Dark Lo- Voldemort was making his speech. It'll take more than just him to keep the Malfoys apart."

They stood together, a family still stuck tight together in a sea of chaos, before Draco pulled away from his mother's grasp.

"I've got to fight," he said. "All these years, I-I've been doing the wrong thing, and I have to make it better, I-I just have to-"

"Draco, no, no, we have to go, we have to leave," his mum began, but he shook his head.

"No, mother! What Voldemort did...what that sick bastard did to Harry a-and Neville..."

His mum seemed to swell with pride, and even Lucius looked rather impressed behind his usual smirk.

"Oh," she said, hugging her son again. "Oh Draco...We will stick by you until the very end. No matter what. Right, Lucius?"

The man nodded tightly, and Draco repeated his action before turning and heading back into the battle, his parents right by his side.

If he thought outside was chaos, inside was pure madness. Teachers, students, and parents alike were fighting with Death Eaters, some taking on two or three at a time while other groups fought just one. Draco shot a Stunning spell at a Death Eater attempting to attack McGonagall from behind, and his parents soon joined the fray as well, red lights instead of green shooting from the ends of their wands for the first time in battle. A cry of, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" rang through the room, and Draco located the fight in time to see a jet of green light hit his Aunt Bella straight in the chest...

But then his eyes were torn away, forced not to look at the loss of a family member as a voice shouted out, "_Protego!_"

He knew that voice...He knew it far better than he knew most things in his life.

"HARRY!"

He shouted out with the crowd, suddenly feeling lighter, happier, like the air around him was suddenly sweeter. Harry. Harry was alive! He was breathing, walking, standing, shouting, holding Draco's wand in front of him as he faced Voldemort. And it didn't even matter that he was saying actual _words_ or that Voldemort was speaking back because god damn it all, he was _alive_.

And he had never looked so beautiful to Draco before. He was hurt - there were more scrapes and bruises across that beautiful face than Draco would ever allow to be there again. But his hair was messy and thrown all over the place, his cheeks were flushed, his chest was heaving, and his hand was wrapped so beautifully around the hawthorn wand that had once belonged to _him_...and he was being so brave, so valiant, having willingly gone with Voldemort and somehow surviving the Killing Curse twice for the entire wizarding world...He was truly beautiful, god-like by wizard standards, and he remembered now why people loved him, why he was so famous...He was a git, a really huge stupid git, but he was _amazing_. He openly taunted Voldemort, called him by his first name...Maybe Draco hated that he was a Gryffindor, but it was then that he realized that that was where Harry _truly_ belonged-

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

He said his name. _He said his name._ Forget the fact that Draco had just found out he was in possession of the most powerful wand in the world; Harry was fighting for his life, against Voldemort, _and he had mentioned his name_.

There was more talking. Then-

"- I overpowered Draco weeks ago."

Weeks? No, months, Potter. Weeks upon weeks of torture - he knew because each passing one was worse and worse and he was getting more and more desperate for a chance to see Harry again with each passing one. It had not been merely weeks. But he didn't even care for the slip-up. He didn't care that Harry hadn't been counting days like he had. Because he'd said his name again.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry, and Draco found himself hanging on every word, completely unaware of what was happening around him as he attempted to move closer. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

And then it happened. In a brilliant moment born for battle, Harry and Voldemort's faces were lit by the rising run. Harry shouted, "_Expelliarmus!_" probably in an attempt to gain control of the most powerful wand in existence just as Voldemort shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!_" The spells collided with a loud BANG and golden flames erupted between the two foes. The force of it seemed to have blasted the Elder Wand from Voldemort's hand, and the Dark Lord's eyes widened before his rebounded spell hit him with full force. But it didn't even hit Draco that the darkest wizard in history was defeated. His eyes were on Harry who, with all the skill of a brilliant seeker, caught the wand in his hand. Voldemort hit the ground and it was over. Harry had won.

Again, a lot happened at once. Everyone was cheering and shouting, rushing toward Harry in a giant mass. The Death Eaters who hadn't been killed or Stunned made a sudden break for the door, hoping to get off Hogwarts grounds to Apparate before they were caught. Several of the Order who were still paying attention shot Stunning spells at them silently, and Draco took great satisfaction in silently hitting the larger of the Death Eaters who had kicked Goyle around before he turned his attention back to Harry. He'd done it. After all these years...He'd finally done it.

The rest of the day seemed surreal. His parents had grabbed him soon after it was all over, pulling him to the side and hugging him, just standing there to enjoy the quiet and the freedom they had finally been blessed with at the death of the Dark Lord. They moved into the Great Hall a few minutes later when Narcissa Malfoy realized that her son had some serious damage done to his face from an earlier punch, demanding that he get medical attention for it at once so that it didn't scar. Draco listened to her, but only for one reason - Harry was still in the Great Hall, and now that the crowd was beginning to die down, he wanted a chance to see him, explain to him what went on. But he only got a glimpse of him as he was coming in. His mother sat him down almost immediately, pulling his face toward her so she could examine it, and by the time Draco was able to look toward where Harry was, he had disappeared.

He spent the rest of the day talking to his mother and father. He explained everything, from the Room of Requirement to running from the castle grounds to returning when he heard of Harry's death. They didn't question his motives nor any of his actions. They just listened intently, relieved that their son was alive. Draco, unashamed, allowed himself to find comfort in his mother's embrace, and leaned into her touch the entire time.

Hours passed. Narcissa patted Draco on the shoulder before releasing him and telling him to go find his things. He nodded and pulled away, standing up and walking out of the Great Hall into the less crowded corridors. And even though he knew the dungeons weren't anywhere near where he was going, he headed up the grand staircase, wanting to get one last look at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before he left it forever.

The damage done was severe, but that didn't make it any less beautiful. Though his stay there had been far from perfect, Draco tried to focus on the positive aspects of his life at the school - of the friends he'd made, magic he'd learned, and love he'd found. Maybe everyone hated him, but Hogwarts had always welcomed him back. That enough was reason for him to love the damn place, and he didn't care who called him a pansy for it.

He ran his fingers along the brick of the wall, trying not to cringe as he passed several holes. Then he looked up, and who should he see but Harry Potter staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Draco flushed. He wanted to see Harry, to talk to him about what had gone on, but he hadn't expected to see him so suddenly and so soon after it all happened. He was going to just owl him the message. But as he took in Harry's appearance, alive, whole, and flushed, he couldn't help but think that this was an okay way to settle things, too.

"Hey," he said, and Harry nodded in response. The two stared at one another, and then Harry pulled out a familiar black, hawthorn wand. Draco tensed - was he really going to try to duel him? Now? Was it really the time? But before he could even move to pull the unfamiliar wand out of his pocket in response, Harry was walking toward him with his arm outstretched.

"I believe this is yours," he said, and Draco took it gingerly, curious as to why Harry was giving it back. As though sensing this, Harry added, "I was able to repair my old one with the Elder Wand. I don't need yours anymore."

Ah. Right. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived (twice), was now master of the Elder Wand. How could he forget?

"I don't suppose anyone would," Draco said, pocketing his wand, "now that you own the most powerful wand in the world."

Harry cringed, and Draco feared he'd said too much. But he just said, "I'm not keeping it," and Draco felt his mouth twitch in a small smile.

"Well how very Gryffindor of you."

Surprisingly, Harry smiled back at him, laughing quietly to himself before saying, "Yeah. I guess it is."

Silence passed between them. Then Harry said, "Well I'm just...going...I'm tired, y'know? So if Gryffindor tower hasn't been destroyed..."

Draco nodded tightly, keeping his mouth shut. He didn't trust himself not to say something embarrassing, like asking if he could join him. Harry nodded back and then he was walking past him. Draco closed his eyes. Really? He was just going to let him walk away?

"Wait."

The command was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he turned to face Harry, surprised to see that he had listened. He found himself suddenly stunned by the look in Harry's eyes, somewhat eager but also wary, guarded. Damn he had nice eyes...But he wasn't going to freeze up now. He had Harry's attention. So with an air of desperation that he guessed was the reason Harry agreed to it at all, he said, "You and I have to talk, Potter. As soon as you're free. It's...it's important."


	6. Chapter 6

"You and I have to talk, Potter. As soon as you're free. It's...it's important."

He had done it. After days, weeks, months of building up the courage, Sirius had finally decided that he was going to do it. He was going to tell James how he felt.

"Going by last names now are we, Black?" James grinned, looking up from the Prophet he was reading to catch his friend's eye. "Well I'm free now. What's on your mind?"

Sirius looked around the Great Hall, cheeks burning when he met Remus's eye. "Not now," he said, pushing some peas across his plate with his fork to occupy his hands. "Later. When we can talk." He paused for a moment before adding, "_Alone_."

That did it. James mouthed _oh_ to himself before going back to the newspaper he was reading, and Peter leaned forward, as if Sirius was really going to discuss what he wanted to talk about then and there when he had made of point of not doing that very thing. Next to him, he felt Remus rest an encouraging hand on his leg and he turned to see his friend smiling at him brightly. It had taken him long enough. But he'd finally done it. He'd finally built up the courage.

Breakfast passed without much else happening. James told everyone about all of the interesting news he had read (not much, to be honest), Remus shared a story about something that had happened in the corridor before he'd been able to join them, and they spent a little time talking about the next full moon and what they planned on doing in order to "celebrate", as James liked to say. Overall, it was a normal morning, and the only way Sirius could tell that James was really thinking about what he had to tell him was the fact that his friend kept frequently establishing eye contact with him, giving him a slight smile and curious look every now and then. But Sirius held his tongue. If he was going to tell James about how he felt, he wanted to do it in a place that wasn't so...public. Rejection was bad enough without it being from your best mate in front of the entire school.

He'd been hoping for some time alone with James immediately after breakfast, but Lily Evans and a late Potions essay kept him from making that a reality. With one apologetic look, James walked off with the pretty redhead, and jealousy burned deep within Sirius as he instead made his way outside, where he'd wait for James until they could walk off to Care of Magical Creatures together. He sat down in a familiar spot near the lake, teeth clenched as he pulled some books out of his bag, deciding that he might as well make headway on some homework he had forgotten while he waited. However, he couldn't really focus on the words that were in front of him - his mind was with his best friend who was now with the redhead he had been lusting after for as long as he could remember. He tried to focus on Remus's words ("_Lily is just something he's trying to prove to himself_") but it didn't do much to reassure him. What if this was it? What if he had missed his opportunity because the stupid little girl wanted to help him finish his Potions essay? _Don't be like that_, he told himself, biting down on his lip as he tried to focus on the words in his copy of _A History of Magic_. _James isn't thinking of Lily like that anymore. You heard what Remus said. Just relax._ He couldn't. And when James showed up again, looking happier than ever, he couldn't even bring himself to smile at his friend before heading off toward their class, hardly acknowledging his company at all.

The rest of the day went similarly - the two would find some private time together and someone else would just pull one of them away. A few times, Sirius had just caught James waving at Lily and had stormed off, much to his friend's confusion. But finally, after the entire day had passed them by, the two boys found themselves alone in the Gryffindor common room, James editing an essay while Sirius watched, noticing every little thing about his friend that made him so lovable. The way he flicked the hair away from his face, the way he bit his lip as he carefully reviewed his own work, the careful scratching of his quill and the hesitation before going to write down every single word...James did everything so carefully with so much attention to detail that Sirius didn't mind sitting there in the quiet just watching him. He was fascinating to look at.

The two sat in silence for a while, James sitting on one half of the couch working while Sirius sat with his legs pulled to his chest on the other half, just watching. Then, finally, James put down his quill, stretched, and turned to look at his friend.

"Is now a good time?" he asked, startling Sirius out of his thoughts, and it took him a second before he realized that James was talking about the conversation he said they had to have.

"Well, uh...Yeah, yeah, sure," he said, brushing hair away from his face. "I mean, everyone else is in bed so there's no chance of...uhm..."

He furrowed his brow, and James politely finished, "Interruption?"

"Yeah. Interruption."

His friend chuckled quietly, turning to face him and throwing an arm up on the back of the couch. "Well then let's get down to business," he said with a warm smile and Sirius felt his heart melt within his chest. He could do this. He could do this.

"Well I just wanted to talk to you about...about, uhm, you know...I've been acting weird lately and..." James raised his eyebrows but encouraged him to go on. "Well I just wanted to talk about it. Why I've been so...protective lately."

"Have you?" James laughed. "I hardly even noticed."

"Shove off, Potter, it's hard enough to talk about _feelings_ with you-"

But he caught off when he realized that James was still laughing quietly to himself, feeling both annoyed and oddly mesmerized at the same time. His friend covered his mouth as though it would stop the shaking of his torso and motioned for Sirius to carry on, but the other boy didn't dare. This was a conversation that he thought was remotely serious and he didn't want James to make light of it. He let him get his giggles out, sitting back looking rather disappointed, and after a few minutes, James calmed down enough to say, "I'm sorry, Padfoot, but you just look so bloody adorable sometimes when you get all riled up. Like a little kid."

If he wasn't so annoyed, Sirius probably would have fell to pieces at James calling him adorable. "This is _serious_, Prongs," he told his friend quietly, and something in his tone must have convinced James because he soon dropped his goofy smile to get into a more stoic state, and he didn't even make a joke about his friend's use of the word "serious" (_No, YOU'RE Sirius. This is a stupid conversation. Now come on, let's go see what we can steal from Honeydukes)._

"Sorry," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his lap. "You know me. Always gotta make a joke."

Sirius smiled slightly. "Well stop for a second so I can talk to you, you giant prat," he said and James looked up at him and smiled back.

"Okay then, Sirius Black," he said. "Tell me. Why have you been acting like an overprotective mama bear these past few weeks? Make it good, too. I want to hear a _real_ story."

Sirius rolled his eyes. There was no stopping James from joking about anything. He would bet all the money in the Black estate that you could take James to a funeral and he'd still be cracking jokes and making people laugh. But he carried on anyway. He was going to do this. "Well you know, you're an idiot," he said, and James shook his head with a smile on his face at how he chose to begin this conversation, "so of course I have to watch out for you normally. Because you can't survive on your own."

"Yeah, that is very true..."

"You bet your ass it's true, James Potter, you couldn't survive two days without me." They exchanged smiles again before Sirius continued. "Anyway, after talking to Remus a bit, we came to the conclusion-" He stopped himself. To his surprise, at the mention of Remus Lupin, James' usual smile had been wiped off his face, replaced with a rather repulsed look that Sirius would never expect to appear on his friend's face at the sound of Remus's name. He furrowed his brow. "Something wrong, mate?"

"No...well...no." James placed his hand on his neck somewhat awkwardly, eying his friend curiously. "It's just, you've been spending an awful lot of time with Remus lately, mate. I mean I didn't really notice at first, but when he dragged you away from Quidditch that one time..." He paused. "I just had time to think about it, that's all."

"I just don't understand what's bothering you."

"Nothing...it's nothing. Go on, I won't interrupt anymore."

But Sirius wasn't going to let it go that easily. He frowned. "You know Moony's one of our best mates," he said. "I'm always hanging out with him. What's the prob-?"

"The _problem_ is that lately he just seems like the only thing on your mind. You're always sharing _looks_ with him and going off and having private _discussions_ with him and I can't help but feel like I'm missing out on something."

"James Potter," Sirius teased, as his friend's words registered, "are you _jealous_?"

"Well, yeah actually," his friend confessed, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's our time, mate. Quidditch and meals and hanging out at the lake. That's _us_. I feel like somehow our time is being limited by him."

"James, it's not like he's intentionally dragging me aw-"

"I know!" His friend sounded frustrated and he immediately quieted to let him talk. "But...is there something going on with you two, Sirius? And I don't mean any homework assignments or pranking bullshit. Is there something going on..." He paused as if struggling to say the next word. "_Romantically?_"

Sirius was thankful that James didn't want to have this conversation around food or he probably would have choked on it. "Me and REMUS?" he asked, and James flushed, looking away from him. "REMUS, James? No! No, no, no that is very, very far from what's going on here." The two had about a minute of silence before Sirius spoke up again. "You really think that me and Remus...?"

"I don't know," James said bitterly. "What else am I supposed to think? You're always so damn _happy_ around him all the time and he's always trying to get you alone and you both always come back looking so much better..."

Sirius had to admit - it all sounded pretty gay from that perspective, and going off and telling James that they were having heart-to-heart conversations probably wasn't going to make it seem any straighter. But really? _Remus Lupin_ of all people?

"Did you ever take a moment to remember that Remus is _straight_, James?" Sirius said quietly but urgently, trying to make him see that it wasn't like that. "We were just talking a-about...personal stuff. But there's nothing _going on _with me and him. I mean, if you want to find basis for a relationship on shared looks and private conversations, I could say the same thing about you and Lily Evans."

James flushed at the redhead's name, and Sirius tried to ignore the stabbing jealousy in the pit of his stomach at James' embarrassment. His friend mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, "That's nothing to me," but Sirius didn't count too much on it. It was probably just wishful thinking.

"I promise, James, Remus and I are not...together. At all. In any form of the word. Thinking about it is sort of awkward, really..."

They fell back into silence, and Sirius turned away from his friend for the first time in order to gather his thoughts. He thought this entire time that him and _Remus_ were together? Well, admittedly, that did explain a few things, like him storming off to Quidditch practice that one day and his near obsession with not allowing him and the werewolf to be alone together. The idea that your two best friends were having a secret relationship beneath your nose would be rather infuriating, especially when they were supposed to share everything...But really? _Remus?_

"Hey," James said suddenly, as if an idea had suddenly sparked in his head, and Sirius turned to face him once more. "You're gay!"

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What are you-?"

"You! Earlier, when you were talking about my weird idea about you and Moony. You said that _he_ was straight, but you never said anything about you."

His friend was positively beaming at him by this point, and he was starting to get very, very confused.

"And this is exciting...?"

"It's exciting because you're GAY, Sirius!" Well okay. That was certainly unexpected. He stared at his friend for a long while, just letting him go off on a small rant about it. "I can't believe you're gay," he was saying. "That explains so much though, like how you always look so good all the time and why your room is always so clean. And how you knew how to do the laundry! Oh wait, most people know how to do that. But still, it does explain the nice hair and your weird fascination with Quidditch _players_ as well as the teams, but it doesn't explain how you're such a dude all the time, but then again-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Sirius finally interrupted. "First of all, I'm not _gay_, I just have said a giant 'fuck you' to genders. Okay? And second, _why_ is it so exciting that I like blokes?" _Well,_ he silently corrected himself, _**a** bloke._

James blinked at him. "Really?"

"Really what?"

"You don't know?"

"Don't know _what?_"

"Oh damn. And here I was thinking that's what we had come here to talk about. I mean I thought it was so blatantly obvious that it would take a complete moron not to-"

"James Potter, if you don't tell me what the hell you're going on about _right now_ I'm going to hex you."

"You love me!" James exclaimed, scrambling on the couch to practically pounce on his friend. "You're gay or half gay or whatever it is you want to say you are and you love me!"

Sirius's eyes widened. "Well, I..I wouldn't say _love_..."

"No, shut up, you love me," James said, settling himself comfortably between his best friend's legs. "You love me, Sirius Black, admit it or _I'll_ hex _you_."

"James..."

"Do it! Say it! Isn't this what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, _yeah_ but-"

"I KNEW IT!"

"James!" Sirius clamped a hand over his friend's mouth, shushing him. "You're going to wake the entire bloody tower if you keep screaming like that." To his surprise (and disgust), James just licked his palm in response and Sirius whipped his hand away, wiping it on the couch. "Gross!"

"If you don't like it, then don't cover my mouth just because you love me and I knew it all along," James said pointedly, as though it was something Sirius should have learned as a child. His friend just laughed and James placed his hands on top of Sirius's still bent knees to support himself as he leaned over him. "You still haven't said it," he teased, and Sirius was sure that he was as red as a ripe tomato by that point. "Come on Sirius. Just say it. Then I'll leave you alone."

Sirius paused. Then, after some thinking, he decided that it was better to calm James down than keep him this riled up so late at night, so he said almost grudgingly, "I love you."

"No, say it like you mean it."

"_James_-"

"Say it or I will wake up everyone and say it for you! In front of them all."

"Fine! James Potter, I love you."

Almost immediately after the words had escaped him, James claimed his mouth with his own, pressing their lips together in a random surge of passion. Sirius's eyes widened before closing almost lazily, fireworks erupting in his core at the feeling of his friend's lips moving so brilliantly with his own. But almost as suddenly as he'd gone for the kiss, James pulled away, laughing at the near awe-struck look on his friend's face.

"I love you too, Sirius Black," he said, grinning wickedly. "And I was _so_ right about this."

"Shut up," Sirius grumbled, shifting awkwardly under James' gaze, but his friend just laughed at him.

"You love it," he said playfully, and then he leaned in again for another kiss, this time giving Sirius the option of pulling away if he wanted to. Of course, though, Sirius just pulled James down until their lips met, softer than before, not even bothering to tell his friend what a git he was.

Of all the places he'd expected to be at the end of the day, this was not one of them. But he surely wasn't going to complain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Well here it is - my sister was gone for seven days, so I've had seven updates. I'm still going to be updating after this, but it will probably take more a little more time and I'll definitely be spending a lot of time editing the seven chapters that I have up already. Just know with this, I was trying to meet a deadline and I will DEFINITELY be editing it along with several of the other chapters. For now, I hope you enjoy what I have. I didn't expect so many kind reviews and they have all made me smile very brightly. So thank you. And I apologize now for any disappointments this chapter may bring you. Much love. xo.

Of all the places he'd expected to be at the end of the day, this was not one of them. But he surely wasn't going to complain.

After all, he had just defeated the most evil dark wizard in the world, he'd finally gotten a full night's sleep after months upon months of traveling, he had somehow managed to avoid the usual crowd of people when he woke up, and Hermione and Ron had been sneaking him sweets the entire day so that he didn't have to go out and face the world just yet. Yes, overall, it was a very good day to be Harry Potter, even if he was currently sitting next to Draco Malfoy on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, looking the very definition of awkward.

He didn't know what Malfoy could possibly want to talk to him about. It was no secret that the two of them had been rivals nearly from the moment they had met. Draco was rude, narcissistic, arrogant, and unjustifiably proud for a boy of his status and age, and Harry had disliked him from the start. However, he had to admit that he'd seen his rival go through some major changes over the years - he had watched him become more withdrawn, more stressed, more...vulnerable. Like he wasn't able to play the big bad wolf anymore without completely breaking down. And while he had been (admittedly) stalking him in his sixth year, Harry had even developed somewhat of a...fondness for him. He wasn't about to call him his best friend and hug him in greeting by any means. But he had to say that he didn't hate Draco Malfoy as much as he used to - especially not after he had saved his life when he had been captured at Malfoy Manor. So he agreed to meet with him after the war, agreed to just...talk to him. Whatever he had to say, he _had_ told Harry that it was _important_ so he supposed he might as well give the guy a shot.

Hermione, of course, had cautioned him against it. "Don't you think it's weird, Harry," she had asked when he told her and Ron about his agreeing to talk to his childhood rival, "that you defeat Voldemort and suddenly one of his followers wants to see you in private?"

"He didn't necessarily say _in private_," Harry had pointed out. "That was more my addition than his. But I don't think he's one of Voldemorts followers, 'Mione. I don't think he ever was, wholly."

"I reckon one of us ought to stay here just in case," Ron had chimed in then, but Harry waved them both off.

"You two worry too much," he told them. "Don't worry about me. It's _Malfoy_. I've beaten him plenty of times in the past. He's no threat to me." He shrugged. "Besides, maybe he just wants to thank me for saving his life. It's about time he showed me some gratitude."

Hermione and Ron had continued to protest against the meeting despite his words, and it was only after Harry had talked the portrait of the Fat Lady into changing the password until Malfoy had come and gone (an easy feat, considering the circumstances) that they finally stopped nagging him. He had made his choice. The most that _they_ could do was just wait outside the portrait until it was over; at least then if they heard any loud or odd noises, they could try to convince the Fat Lady to let them back in.

After his friends had agreed to letting him be alone to talk to his ex-nemesis, Harry had sent Hedwig off with a note to Malfoy, telling him to meet him in the Gryffindor common room. "_The password is facta, non verba,_" he wrote. "_Don't worry; I already talked to the Fat Lady. She'll let you in._"

And that was how he found himself here - on the couch. With Draco Malfoy. Waiting.

"So," Harry said, clapping his hands together, drawing out the 'o' in the word in hopes of filling more of the silence. Malfoy just stared at him.

"So?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It's something my aunt and uncle used to do when they had dinner guests that didn't want to speak to them."

The blond just stared at him, and Harry shifted awkwardly under his gaze. It seemed that ever since Malfoy had come in through the portrait hole, that was all he'd been doing - staring at him. And not glaring like he usually did. Outright _staring_ like Harry was some fascinating piece of art in an exhibit. It was a bit unnerving.

"Did you really want to talk to me, Malfoy, or did you just want to stare at me all day?"

That got him. Malfoy immediately blushed, and he looked away as he said quietly, "Call me Draco."

"What?"

"I said call me Draco. My _name_ is Draco."

Harry raised his eyebrows. It hadn't even occurred to him that calling Mal-_Draco_ by his last name was rather upsetting. In fact, he'd been doing it for so long, that it was just instinctive. When he looked at the blond, he didn't think "Draco" anymore. He just thought "Malfoy", just like when he looked at Crabbe or Goyle, he thought "Crabbe" and "Goyle" instead of...what _were_ their first names anyway? He had never bothered to find out. He frowned.

"Sorry. It's...old habit."

Draco just shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest as he looked around the common room. Harry allowed him his silence, and he stayed where he was on the opposite end of the couch, picking at his nails, waiting for Malfoy to tell him why he was there.

"It's a nice common room," Draco said suddenly, and Harry's gaze flashed over to him. He was staring again. "It's very..." He trailed off, probably at a loss of words to describe how he felt about the rival house. "It's very Gryffindor. Which surprisingly isn't an insult this time around."

Harry nodded tightly, not sure how to respond to that. Draco flushed for a second and then fell back into silence, staring at Harry again with that same, fascinated stare. Now it was just getting creepy.

"Look, Mal-Draco. Is this a good time for you?" Harry turned to face him, throwing one arm up on the back of the couch. "I mean, I know you told me whenever I was free was okay, but if you're not ready..."

"No, no, no, no," Draco said quickly, looking slightly alarmed. "No, it's better that it all get said sooner rather than later. I just...I don't know what I want to say really. Or how much I should say, I guess."

Okay - that was progress. Harry just had to lead him forward.

"Well I'd like to hear it all," he said, moving himself a little closer to the blond to emphasize this. "Anything you have to tell me, you can tell me. I won't...I won't judge you for it. You said it's important so..." He shrugged. "I want to hear it. I'm a surprisingly good listener."

He expected Draco to make some off the wall comment like, _Well yeah with THOSE ears_, or something else to insult his appearance or intelligence, but to his surprise, the boy just stared at him, still looking relatively frightened. Had he done something wrong?

"Draco?"

"Sorry." The other boy shook his head, as if coming out of a deep thought. "Sorry, I'm just...I don't even know where to begin."

Harry nodded. He understood. With all the times he had been interviewed about battles and Dark Lords returning from the dead, he knew it was hard to decide where to begin, what to describe first. And there were some parts that you just wanted to forget about completely. He gave him an encouraging smile and said, "Well...I'll help you out. I'll just ask you about all the things I want to know and you can tell me the story from there. Okay?" Malfoy paused, considered the question for a minute, and then nodded tightly. Harry nodded back and began his questioning with the question that had been haunting him for months. "Why didn't you sell me out back at the Malfoy Manor?"

Draco tensed. No, that wasn't a good question to start with. That got into things he didn't want to answer yet way too quickly for his liking. Noticing that the other boy seemed frightened again by his words, Harry opened his mouth to say nevermind. But Draco got around to answering before he could say another word.

"I don't know." His voice was quiet, somewhat reserved, like he was going back to that day in his head. "Honestly I...I don't know. I knew it was you; I'm not even going to deny that. But when I looked down at you, I-I..." He caught Harry's eye, and something in his gaze seemed to melt, the coldness of it falling away into something that could almost be described as affection. "I couldn't stand to hurt you."

A weird but pleasant twisting feeling appeared in the bottom of Harry's stomach as he stared into those gray eyes, and he could not detect a hint of insincerity in what Draco had just told him. _Oh._ Well that was a weird feeling. In all of his time, Harry had never met someone who wouldn't sell him out for their own personal gain who didn't think of him like a part of their family. And even then, he had never been so sure that if it came down to it, they'd be true. But Draco had been put to the test in real life - he had been in that ultimatum type of situation where he could rat Harry out or possibly die from the consequences. And he had just told him with one hundred percent honesty that he didn't give him up because he didn't want to-no, because he _couldn't_ hurt him. The very idea made something very similar to affection rise up in Harry, and he was so jumbled by the suddenness of the emotion that he could only stammer out, "O-oh. Well...thanks."

Draco shrugged like it was no big deal, but his eyes gave him away. Harry had just thanked him. _Him_. Draco Malfoy - the boy who should be thanking Harry Potter, not the other way around. It was a nice feeling, a touching feeling. And it didn't help his rather large crush one bit.

"Well, uhm," Harry stammered out, trying to pull himself together, "now that we've covered that...I guess the next thing to ask is what did you do to assist Voldemort after the Manor? Did you ever...do anything for him? Harm anyone? Neville was telling us some pretty nasty stories about what the Carrows were having kids do during classes..."

Draco cringed. He remembered that well enough - sitting in the back of a Defense Against the Dark Arts class day after day, trying not to cry as he watched first year after first year get tortured, not daring to intervene or leave for fear of what would happen to his parents. Having to see classmates like Neville Longbottom with black eyes and swollen lips, having to watch their injuries get worse day by day. Having to hide himself away in the dungeons just to escape seeing the blood on everyone around him that made his stomach curl...Yeah - he remembered that perfectly. "I didn't do anything for that sick bastard after my sixth year when I was trying to save my dad," he said harshly, and Harry was startled by the sudden ferocity in his voice, "and that's a promise. I would never...I _could_ never bring myself to-to torture first years or beat up my classmates." He shuddered. "That's not...it's not me. A-and I know you won't believe me, Potter, but I never hurt anyone extra on purpose." He looked up to catch Harry's eye, and suddenly the young hero knew that they weren't just talking about the past few months anymore. "I never meant to hurt...anyone. I never wanted to. N-Not first years, not our classmates, not Katie, not your little ginger friend..." He paused, trying to regain himself. "Not...not even Dumbledore. I only did what I had to to save my father and then I was done. That was it. I never wanted a-any of that..." He was crying by that point, wiping away tears before they could fall, and Harry was courteous enough to look away. "After you left, I just returned to Hogwarts and laid in the Slytherin common room and just tried to forget it...forget everything. I left for whatever classes I was being forced to go to, but that was it. And I promise - I _swear_ - I never did anything for Vol-...for V-...for _him_. I never hurt anybody."

Surprisingly, Harry believed him. Something about seeing his ex-nemesis there on the couch, curled up in the corner trying to hide that he was crying...it broke something inside of him and suddenly a rush of protectiveness toward Draco Malfoy came bursting through and he wanted nothing more than to hold him until he had cried it all out and told him everything. However, he had learned a little something about self-control in his seventeen years of living, so instead of doing this, he just leaned forward and put a hand on Draco's knee. "I believe you," he said quietly, sincerely, and he allowed Draco a few moments to regain himself before going into question mode again. He never moved his hand, and he somehow sensed that Malfoy was grateful for this. He doubted that Draco opened up very often, and he wondered briefly if Draco had ever been comforted by another living human being before in his life. The thought that he hadn't made the protective beast inside him growl, and it pushed him to squeeze Draco's knee as affectionately as he would someone's hand.

After Draco had calmed down, Harry moved his hand away, feeling a sense of loss at the lack of contact, no matter how little it had been before. He told himself firmly that it was just because he was really paternal beneath it all, nothing at all to do with touching Malfoy, and as he looked over at his companion, the look on his face told Harry that he was having the same battle. For some reason, he found this extraordinarily fascinating. After a moment, though, Draco caught him staring and gave him a small smile, and Harry, embarrassed to have been caught, tried to move on quickly to the next subject.

"So you stopped doing...bad...shit," he said, and Draco couldn't help but snort at his stuttering. "Well. That's...good to know." He cleared his throat and tried to get back into interrogation mode. However, his next question just came out sounding soft and affectionately curious. "So then what were you doing in the Room of Requirement? When Hermione, Ron, and I were looking for the diadem."

"I was looking for you," Draco replied honestly, casting his gaze to the floor to avoid Harry's eyes. "But not - _not_ to turn you in like Crabbe said. I was...I was annoyed that after I'd let you go back at the Manor, you just went and put yourself right back into danger. So I was looking for you to tell you to leave."

Harry hoped he didn't look as startled as he felt. "Then why did you want the diadem?"

"Bargaining purposes?" He gave him a small smile. "I wanted to make sure you'd leave, and in order to do that, I needed whatever you were looking for. So we lurked around until we found out what you needed and then...well, you were there. You know how well _that_ worked out."

Harry laughed quietly. Yeah - that was just a disaster waiting to happen. However, before, the idea of Draco trying to get him out of there hadn't even come to mind. He was just thinking that...that he really did want to turn him over to Voldemort. That he wanted to protect one of the Horcruxes. Obviously he was wrong. Draco wanted to get him out of there, wanted to keep him safe. Because of that same feeling, no doubt, that he got at Malfoy Manor, the same feeling that Harry could only liken to his desire to grab Malfoy and hold him until he felt okay again. But there was just one problem, one thing bugging him...

"Why would you do that?" The question came out sounding a lot ruder than he meant it to, so Harry tried again. "I mean...you and I have never been...friends. Ever. So...why? Why did you want to keep me away from Voldemort?"

_Because I love you, you complete imbecile_, Draco thought, stomach twisting at the fact that they'd gotten to this question so soon. He wasn't sure how to explain it - how to explain that his years of torturing Harry were just excuses to get information about his life, how to explain that every time he taunted his friends it was because he was jealous that they were around him, how to explain that years and years of hatred somewhere down the line had been converted into love, how to explain that he had risked it all trying to keep Harry safe, how to explain his change of heart, how to explain that he was now in love with Harry Potter, with _him_, and that was _why_ for goodness sake. Because he was young, he was careless, and he was in love, and he wanted to make up for it, to prove to Harry that it was real by doing something so stupidly heroic that even _he_ would have to pay attention to Draco for it. But putting it that way was sappy and stupid and very un-Draco-like and he suspected that suddenly bleeding feelings all over Harry wasn't going to convince him he was telling the truth. So instead he decided to put up the same wall he'd been hiding behind for the past seven years, to keep Harry from accessing the real him, by saying, "Because I'm Draco Malfoy. I do things that will benefit me, that I want to do. I have no master o-or Lord."

But Harry wasn't buying the sudden switch of tone and he knew it. But how else could he explain it? Did he really expect him to come out and say, oh and by the way, I also did it because I'm in love with you? That wasn't _Draco_. He wasn't that cheesy. But Harry was giving him that pressing look with those beautiful green eyes of his, and Draco could just feel himself falling apart, could feel his walls breaking down, could feel the words on the tip of his tongue...

"Draco, seriously. Why did you do all that?"

"Becauseiminluvwidyou."

It came out before he could help it, a quiet jumble of words, and Harry leaned forward in a failed attempt to catch them. "Pardon?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I said because...iminluvwidyou." His voice, so strong at the beginning, was a whisper by the end of it, and Harry flushed.

"I...I'm sorry Draco, I really didn't...what did you say?"

"I said that I'm in love with you," Draco said quietly, so quietly that he was afraid Harry didn't hear him. But judging by the widening of his eyes and the flush rising up his neck, he did.

_In love with me?_ Harry thought incredulously. _Draco Malfoy is in love...with me? He's joking, right?_ But somehow, he didn't think he was. Something about the statement seemed so...right in his mind, like it was how things were supposed to happen. Draco, who had hated him all of the time he had known him, had just confessed to being in love with him. And _that was okay_. The world kept spinning, the minutes kept ticking away. That was the way it was meant to be. And Harry...Harry felt _happy_ about it. Because here was this beautiful, intelligent, fascinating, brave boy who had just made all the wrong choices, sitting across from him on the couch, and telling him he loved him. The same boy that Harry had been stalking the previous year, the same boy who had challenged Harry to be better, the same boy who Harry had watched change so dramatically over the years. And somehow, looking back, he was finding that his memories of Draco weren't as...horrible as he'd thought them at the time. His insults had never had much bite, his tone had never really been very hateful. Glares never seemed to be aimed directly at him, and he still remembered the moment when Draco had offered up his friendship to him, when he had selected _him_ to try and befriend out of everyone in that Hall...

And somehow Harry _knew_. He knew this day was going to come, he had known it in his gut, and the twisting feeling of anticipation that had been tightly wound around his insides seemed to disappear and it felt okay to breathe again, to live, to exist, because Draco Malfoy had just told him he loved him. And maybe somewhere inside Harry, there was a piece of him that still hated Draco. No, he knew it was there - he had lived with it for six years. But he had known, just _known_ that something inside of him had snapped that sixth year. He had walked away from that year not knowing exactly how he felt about Draco and now he knew - in that moment, he just _knew._ Something inside him just fell right into place and...wow, wait, what was he thinking? This couldn't be happening...He couldn't be...returning those feelings, could he? And it was then that it dawned on him what had just happened and he raised his eyebrows, looking over at Malfoy.

"Hey," he said, and Draco's eyes snapped to him, "you're gay!"

"Wha-? Did you figure that out all on your own, Potter, with your brilliant deduction skills?"

"Well, no, obviously, but Draco, you're gay!"

"And this is exciting...?"

Exciting? Harry flushed. He hadn't realized that his tone had bordered on sheer joy when he first spoke. "It's exciting because you're GAY, Malfoy! Merlin, this explains so much. Like why you've been staring at me pretty much for the past hour and all the weird jealousy shit that went on over the years. And it explains why you always looked so nice and did such weird stuff with your hair and why you were always so _damn_ prissy about people touching your clothes. However, you are a bit of an athlete, a bloody good one too, and here I was thinking gay men only excelled at _football_ but no matter, it's really-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Draco interrupted, thoroughly confused by that point. "First of all, I'm not gay, I have just said a giant 'fuck you' to genders this time around. And second, why is it suddenly so brilliant that I like...well not blokes, but _a_ bloke?"

Harry grinned. That qualifier, that little "a" that Draco had stuck in there to let him know it was only him that really struck his fancy did a lot for him. He was loved by someone. Someone who ordinarily wasn't even gay, who ordinarily didn't even _like_ him. He had somehow managed to take someone who didn't fancy blokes and who didn't fancy Harry Potter and get them to love both without even trying. And forget Cho, forget Ginny, forget every girl he had ever encountered in his life because he felt..._happy_. Overjoyed even. _Somebody loved him_. And not the way Ron or Hermione or Mrs. Weasley loved him, and not in the way Ginny loved him in that Draco always seemed on the verge of ripping his clothes off because it wasn't like that at all. It was a love that was shy, hidden, blossoming into something that could be beautiful. It was true affection, something that Draco had risked his life for, and Harry had never heard of something so..so..._romantic_. And _that _was why it was brilliant. Because Draco _loved_ him! How could he not see it, not feel it? It had taken this long, it had taken this moment, but Harry was beginning to realize _why_ those feelings inside him had been so attracted to seeing Draco so soon after the war when he wanted to avoid everyone else. It was because Draco loved him. And somewhere inside him, he knew all along that he loved Draco.

"Do you really not see it?" Harry asked, beaming at the blond, who was blinking his reddening eyes blankly at him.

"Really not see what?"

"You don't know?"

"Don't know _what?_"

"You mean you can't _see it?_ You can't _feel it?_ And here I was freaking out that everyone on the grounds could sense it-"

"Harry Potter, what in the _hell_ are you going on about?"

"You love me!" Harry exclaimed, feeling stupidly giddy, and Draco stared back at him.

"Yes, I _know_ that, I just told you that."

"No, no, but you love _me_. _Me!_ Don't you get it?"

Draco stared blankly. How in the world had he been afraid to tell this man he loved him? No, how in the world did he love him at all? He was a complete nutter. "You've lost me, Potter. I think you've finally become completely unhinged."

The familiar insulting tone reached his ears, but Harry could pick out the affection in it now. It made him beam and he moved forward, leaning over Draco with his hands placed on his knees. "I'm not _unhinged_, Draco," he said. "I've just suddenly realized something, and I can't believe you can't tell!"

Draco absentmindedly pushed some of Harry's hair out of his face, moving his legs so that the brunette could rest comfortably between them. "Honestly, Potter, I think you're completely off your rocker."

"No, you love me Draco. Say it."

"What?"

"Say it!"

"No! I've already said it once, you can't expect me to say it again."

"Oh hogwash, just say it."

"No."

"Say it _now_."

"No, Potter!"

"Say it or I'll hex you."

"_Potter-_"

"Say it or I'll tell the Daily Prophet!"

They both froze. "You wouldn't dare," Draco hissed, and Harry laughed, still somewhat giddy from the idea of being loved.

"Try me. Say it. Please. Just one more time. Come on Draco, just say it. Then I'll leave you alone."

He rolled his eyes. If it meant the stupid git would get off him... "I love you."

"No, say it like you mean it."

"_Harry-_"

"Ron and Hermione are right outside. Say it before I say it for you for the world to know."

Really? "Fine! Harry Potter, I love you."

It happened so suddenly that neither one of them knew it was happening until it was over. Harry leaned forward suddenly, the sensation of actually hearing the words "I love you" so overpowering that he had to let go of some self-control. His lips met Draco's for the first time and it was like the entire world stopped save for the fireworks exploding in their stomachs. Their very beings seemed to ignite with the simple touch of the lips, as though even their magic was happy _finally_ for the end of the sexual tension that had been harbored between the pair for years. And then it was over and Draco was panting and Harry was surprised because he didn't even know he was _gay_, let alone capable of doing that, and then it didn't matter because Harry was leaning forward again, muttering quietly, "I love you, too, Draco Malfoy," and both of their worlds were collapsing again in a sea of sparks as their lips met for a second time.

Eventually, though, the two boys realized what had just happened and Harry seemed to almost jump away from Draco as the smaller blond pulled away with suddenly wide eyes.

"Did we just-?"

"Yes, I think we-"

"And did that just-?"

"Yeah. Yeah it did."

The two sat on separate cushions of the couch, though noticeably closer than they were before Harry had nearly pounced on him. Silence fell between them. And then:

"I didn't know you were gay, Potter."

"I'm not gay. I have just said a giant 'fuck you' to genders this time around."

Draco's mouth twitched in the early stages of a smile, and Harry couldn't stop himself from letting out a shaky laugh.

"Actually, I didn't even know I _liked_ you," he said, growing a bit more sober. "Until I-" He motioned toward Draco's face, unsure really of what had happened.

"Looked into my eyes? How romantic."

"Shut up, that's not what...well, actually that _is_ what happened, but shut up anyway, Draco, it's not romantic. It's just the truth."

And honestly, it was. Something in the way Draco had said it, the look in his eye, the tone in his voice...it had woken something deep within Harry that he didn't know was there before, an ancient magic more powerful than anything else in the world. Something Dumbledore had been trying to tell him about since day one. It was love.

It was then that something dawned on him that hadn't occurred to him before.

"Hey, hey, Draco," he said, patting the boy he had just been kissing excitedly on the leg. "Do you know if magic has anything to do at all with wizards falling in love?"

"What? No, I'm not a girl, I don't sit there and research what happens when you fall in l-"

"Oh you're no help. Come on; I'll bet you anything Hermione knows."

"Knows WHAT?" Draco completely ignored the hand that Harry was offering up to him, staring at him with a bewildered expression on his face. Was he _always_ this vague with this thoughts? Because honestly if he was, they were going to have to work on that so that Draco didn't go completely mad trying to communicate with him. Harry just looked down at him, as if Draco should already be able to read his thoughts.

"I'll be she knows if magic determines who you fall in love with," he said, somewhat frustrated. "And I'll bet she can tell us if _our_ magic is the reason why it just took some kindness and a look in the eye to get us kissing on a couch in the middle of the Gryffindor common room."

Draco flushed - oh. That. He reached up and took Harry's hand, allowing him to pull him up from where he'd been sitting on the couch for the better part of the hour. As soon as he was upright, he found himself locked in another embrace with Harry, lips brushing ever so lightly as his heart exploded in his chest.

"Sorry," Harry said, "I'm just sort of psyched at the feeling I get when I do that."

"Yeah...no kidding."

The two then joined hands as they made their way out of Gryffindor tower. And regardless of if it was true magic or not, Draco couldn't help but think cheesily to himself that there was nothing really more magical than what had just happened. And maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe love was a magic that ran so deep that even a six year rivalry couldn't contain it. Maybe there was something more powerful than either one of them could ever imagine working between them, that something like this was able to occur. Or maybe it was something that they both realized was there, but didn't want to admit. Whatever it was, Draco was thankful for it. Years spent alone had taught him like there was nothing better than being in the presence of someone who truly cared for you. And regardless of if Harry's feelings were as real and true as his, in that moment, he couldn't be happier. He didn't even care that the circumstances were so strange.

However, before Harry could pull him out of the common room, Draco stopped him. "Are you...are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry stopped and turned around to look at him. "Of course I want to do this," he said. "I love you."

_I love you_. The words tasted so good on his lips, felt so right flowing from his mouth, and it was all he could do not to jump on the other boy again. But Draco just looked troubled.

"You don't think it's strange?"

"What? Us?"

"Well...yeah."

"Well of course it's strange, Draco." The blond raised his eyebrows, but Harry's smile never faltered. "You and I hated each other," he said, much too brightly for the sentence he'd just uttered. "For years. But this...you can't deny this. I think it's something magical, and I don't mean in a cheesy way. I mean I think it's seriously something...magical between us. If that's not strange, I don't know what is." Noticing that Draco still didn't look reassured, Harry squeezed his hand. "But it's okay. Normalcy doesn't seem very...Harry to me."

Draco twitched in the beginning of a smile, a gesture Harry was beginning to realize was actually just his _smile_, and it was like the passageway lit up. "You're a complete nutcase, Potter," he said. "And I love you. But I'm just saying that I don't think your friends...or the world...are going to like it as much as us."

Harry frowned. This hadn't occurred to him before. Draco was, whether they liked it or not, a Death Eater. He did some serious damage to the world; his actions had led directly to the death of Albus Dumbledore. He was a criminal, a convict, and Harry knew that his friends didn't trust him for a second. He doubted the wizarding world was very fond of him either. And even if he had good excuses for what he did - _family_ is a good enough excuse for anything in his eyes - it didn't change the fact that he had _done_ it. Forget the trial, forget the legal implications of it. If Harry Potter came out and said that he was suddenly going to try to make things work out between himself and a Death Eater...The world would think he was mental.

_I am mental_, he thought to himself. But he couldn't deny Draco had a point. He released his hand and planted a kiss on his nose. "It'll just be our little secret for a while then," he said.

"Good idea, Scarface. What are you going to tell your friends?"

Harry thought for a moment. "That we talked. And that I'm suddenly curious about the magical bonds of love because I have time for it now."

Draco laughed. "And they'll buy that?"

"They have no reason not to."

Silence fell between them, and Harry could tell that Draco was still somewhat uneasy. To be honest, he was too. Their conversation had gone from dark and heavy to light and doting way too quickly back there. But by that point, Harry didn't care. Someone loved him - someone in the world was able to look at him, _him_ not his scar, and tell him that they loved him, and he wasn't going to question who or when or how this came to be. Because it only mattered that it happened. But he knew that cheesy speeches only worked on Slytherins for so long, so he decided to try for a little realism. "Draco," he said softly, and the blond looked at him almost critically, as if his tone alone was enough to make him think the next words had a double meaning. Harry tried to reassure him with a sad smile. "This isn't going to be easy. I'm going to be in the press a lot...more than usual, actually, now that this has happened, and your family is going to face some serious accusations once everyone stops celebrating. Going public isn't exactly something we can do right away, you're right about that. It's not smart. With that combination, it's downright deadly for us. But one day, the press will die down. Not all the way, but it will a bit, and you and your family are going to get through these trials, I promise. I'll help you through them. This isn't going to be forever. You'll get comfortable with it, I'll get comfortable with it, the world will get comfortable with it. Okay?"

Reality seemed to work with Draco because he looked a little more relaxed by that. "And if we don't make it through the trials?"

Harry's heart stopped at the idea. "We'll worry about that if it happens. But I don't think it will come down to that."

It was a half lie and they both knew it. But Draco nodded anyway and said, "Well then, I guess we should get going. I have some amends to attempt to make with a certain ginger and his Mudblo-"

"_Draco_."

"-Muggle born, then, sorry. His _Muggle born_ girlfriend."

This time it was Harry trying to suppress his smile and being betrayed by a twitch. Maybe they had to keep it a secret for a while. Maybe it was going to have its complications. But if his feelings were correct - and he strongly believed they were - Harry and Malfoy were connected by something stronger than any secrets and complications life could throw at them. It was going to be rocky. But it was something beautiful, and he wasn't going to let a few misdeeds of the past stop that. Voldemort was dead. It was a new age.

Things had changed.


	8. Chapter 8

Things had changed. And Sirius wasn't really sure it was for the best.

See, when he and James had cooled down enough to actually sit down and discuss what was happening between them, the first thing to come to Sirius's mind was that they couldn't tell a soul. If anyone knew, anyone at all, they'd tell his brother and his brother would tell his mother and then - then all Hell would break loose. A homosexual Black? Preposterous! And he was dating one of those _Potters_? Nonsense! Though James was a pureblood through and through, the Potters had never been on the same level that the Blacks or the Malfoys were on. The Potters didn't judge people based on their blood type; they didn't make family friends around a name. They were typically Gryffindors, and not just in the way that they could go anywhere and they leaned slightly more toward Gryffindor. They were _real_ Gryffindors, supportive of their house and colors through and through, never ashamed of it. Honestly, they were purebloods but they didn't _act_ like purebloods. And nothing in the world infuriated Mrs. Black more than a pureblood that acted like a Mudblood.

But James, of course, didn't even give Mrs. Black a second thought. When Sirius had suggested keeping quiet, he just grabbed his hands and said, "You're a bigger moron than I thought if you think I'm going to let anyone else think they still have a chance with you for one more second." No fear of rejection. No fear of his mother hexing her way into Hogwarts just to break down the doors and kill him. No fear of anyone thinking less of him. That was James Potter. Never fearful.

Sirius had learned long ago not to argue with James, so he let his friend (_boy_friend, he soon realized, and he always smiled just thinking the word) do whatever he wanted in terms of telling people. After all, though he was a worrier deep down inside, Sirius Black had a reputation to maintain, and if James was brave enough to risk it all by coming out as homosexual, then he was going to take that risk with him.

But then things changed.

It all started the very next day. Though Sirius and James had eventually fallen asleep together on the couch, too tired to get back up to the dormitories, no one really paid them any mind. The two had been doing that for years. However, a few of the guys who knew them did walk by and snicker at them when they realized that the two were more tangled together than usual. And from there, people slowly started to catch on. They got a couple stares from a few girls who were around when they woke up, mainly because James kept brushing away Sirius's hair and staring at him with an expression not unlike a lovesick schoolchild. And those stares just increased as they left the common room - something was different about the pair. They seemed...closer.

It never seemed to dawn on people that the two were holding hands (something James had insisted upon) until they were already out of sight.

At breakfast, they were met with stares - blatant stares, pointed fingers, and whispers that were too loud to have ever been intended to be kept secret. And though SIrius usually ate up attention, this time around, it just made him feel insecure. Those weren't just the normal people looking at him and James in admiration. There were some judgmental stares and when the two sat down together at the table, he could hear Severus Snape's loud and cruel laugh as James kissed him on the cheek. It was definitely out now. The entire school would know that James Potter and Sirius Black were dating. And though the thought itself was comforting and even satisfying, the stares and upturned noses were not. The only thing keeping him from asking James once more if they could just keep it quiet for a little longer was the look of complete admiration he was getting from his boyfriend at that very moment.

Throughout the day, people got bolder and bolder. At first, they just stared and whispered quietly behind their hands. But as their morning classes progressed, some people openly snickered and Lily Evans made her disapproval of the relationship _very_ clear by telling James that she'd be more than willing to brew up an antidote to the love potion Sirius slipped him. Sirius got a deep feeling of satisfaction when the hex James silently threw her way during class hit, and that satisfaction just grew when he saw the furious look on Snape's face as he walked Lily to the hospital wing. Priceless.

After that, though, instead of the disapproval dying down for fear of being hexed, people just got more expressive about how they felt about the whole thing. Some wrote notes, some just openly called them fags, some disappointed girls groaned and grumbled at them, and when one particularly giggly sixth year asked James to kiss Sirius in front of them all, there was a mixture of emotions expressed when the Potter boy gladly obliged, not many of them positive. And though James didn't seem phased by it one bit (he never did) Sirius felt his skin crawl at the criticisms. No one had ever dared criticize him before - between his Black ancestry and his ability to make friends with some of the more powerful wizards at the school, no one had ever thought to. Besides, why would they? Sirius was charming, he was good-looking, he was intelligent and charismatic. Other than Snape and possibly Evans, who would have a problem with him? Who _could_?

He didn't tell James, though. He didn't want to upset his boyfriend or make him think that he was having second thoughts. Because he wasn't - honestly he wasn't. It was just...it was so hard to be happy about holding James' hand when everyone around them disapproved. How the Potter heir made his way through the school, all sunshines and rainbows and smiles, Sirius would never know. It must have just been one of those things that was so uniquely _James_.

The rest of the week was the same, too. James was smiley, Sirius was uncomfortable, the school was critical. The only difference was that now, James was bolder. He kissed Sirius goodbye when they approached classes they didn't have together, he openly flirted with him in class, and he didn't even care to shelter them enough that professors had to separate them from one another on several different occasions. It was almost like he wanted to fuel the fire, like he didn't care that everyone around them was either disgusted or just extremely tired already of the honeymoon phase the two were going through. To be honest, Sirius didn't doubt that this was close to the truth. It would be just like James to have his cake and eat it, too.

He did know, however, that it had to stop. And this was made most apparent when Sirius got his first Howler.

"Oh shit, Padfoot." James stared at the red envelope with wide eyes, Remus cringed, and Peter even whimpered. Mrs. Black's Howlers were legendary, and though Sirius had only gotten a handful in his seven years at Hogwarts, each one was enough to make up for fifty disappointed letters from other parents. She was...harsh. And she was not a woman you wanted yelling at you in front of the entire school. "To the Lake, now," James said, grabbing the letter and his boyfriend, and the two stumbled out quickly, a few people giggling at the sight of them when they realized what it was in James' hand. A few people even had the nerve to follow.

They had just barely reached the Lake when the letter burst into flame in James' hand, causing the boy to let out a shout and drop it. That's when all Hell broke loose.

"SIRIUS BLACK, YOU FAILURE OF A CHILD. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW? HOW COULD YOU BE SUCH A CONTINUAL DISAPPOINTMENT TO THE BLACK FAMILY? NOT ONLY HAVE YOU SHAMED US ALL WITH YOUR ACTIONS BUT YOU HAVE DISGRACED YOURSELF BY ACTING IN SUCH A MANNER WITH A THING MOST UNSUITED FOR YOUR AFFECTIONS."

Sirius grabbed James' hand at this, and his boyfriend glared up at the envelope.

"I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED. YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO HAVE THE NAME BLACK ANY LONGER. THE ONLY SATISFACTION I REAP FROM YOUR LESS THAN APPROPRIATE LUST FOR THIS MAN IS THAT NEITHER ONE OF YOU WILL BE ABLE TO BEAR A CHILD THAT MAY CONTINUE ON THE BLACK NAME IN DISGRACE. REGULUS HAS BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE SHINING STAR IN OUR FAMILY, AND I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED THAT I HAVE TO ASK YOU TO FOLLOW IN YOUR LITTLE BROTHER'S BLOODY FOOTSTEPS. YOU ARE FILTH. IF YOU EVER STEP FOOT IN OUR HOUSEHOLD AGAIN, SIRIUS, IT WILL BE TOO SOON. AND DON'T EVEN THINK OF BRINGING THAT THING AROUND. I WILL SOONER HEX YOU BOTH INTO OBLIVION THAN SEE YOU WALK THROUGH MY FRONT DOOR HAND IN HAND."

The letter than began to viciously tear itself apart, burning parchment falling to the ground in front of the two boys. James was staring at it, seemingly annoyed and yet a little impressed at the tremendous display, and Sirius just stared until the final flames ran out and there was nothing left of his mother's lovely sentiment except for the memory of her voice filling the entire grounds. Around them, a few people were snickering (Snape was actually doubled over in laughter) while others just gave Sirius a look of pure pity. James, however, eventually just pulled on his hand and led him to the Quidditch pitch, where the two sat for hours in silence, not even caring that their classes were passing them by. And so their downfall began.

* * *

><p>"Prongs?"<p>

"Hm?"

"You don't...you don't think everyone is thinking what she is, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm...I'm a disgrace. And we don't belong together."

"Oh, come on, Sirius. That's rubbish. We're perfectly fine the way we are."

"They whisper about us, y'know..."

"Don't be so sensitive."

"Okay, okay...sorry...Just...James?"

"Yeah?"

"If you were ashamed of me, you'd tell me, right?"

"I could never be ashamed of you. Don't be a prat."

"But if you were-"

"I won't ever be."

"But if you _were_, James."

"Then I'd hex myself for being such a moron. But I'd tell you then, yes."

"I think we should tone it down a bit. Us. Just around the grounds...James? J-James, say something."

"I see."

"I'm not ashamed of you, I promise, it's just that-"

"Please, don't. I get it."

"Don't be mad, please, please don't be angry."

"I'm not mad. I get it. I do."

"...I love you."

"I love you, too. It's nearly dinner time now. Can I...can I hold your hand on the way back? Or is that too much for you to handle?"

"James, don't be like that."

"Too much it is, then."

"No, James, wait! Come back!"

"If you hurry you can walk next to me. Y'know. If that doesn't make you too embarrassed."

"James, please..."

"Come on, Padfoot, I'm hungry."

* * *

><p>After that, James didn't talk to him for the rest of the night. He laughed with Remus, joked with Peter, and when Sirius reached over to hold his hand, he took it. But James didn't kiss him goodnight the way that he usually did, and he certainly didn't tell him again that he loved him. The next morning, Sirius woke up alone and when he glanced over at James' bed, it was empty. He sighed.<p>

That's what happened when you let your pride come before your feelings. Things changed. And he wasn't quite sure what he thought about change.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: This is short because I've decided that I'm putting James/Sirius on a lesser level than Harry/Draco. Why? Because I think that the past story just needs to show enough background to be relevant. That and writing for Sirius is so hard when all I can picture in my head is him as Harry's godfather. Sorry if this disappoints. Also, sorry I kept you waiting for so long for just simply this. I promise to make up for it with the next chapter when I can find the time. I love you guys. xo.


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